


Things to Ruin

by becomingshades



Series: Fireproof [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Kid Fic, Memories, Romance, Sexy Times, twoo wuv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becomingshades/pseuds/becomingshades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15 years ago, Harry Styles met Hellie McGovern in a Manhattan bar and the rest, as they say, is history.  Or it would have been, if life was like a fairy-tale. But this is reality -- one-night-stands, broken promises, shattered hearts and all. </p><p>And that's exactly why their children, 13-year-old twins Cass and Oliver, have never heard a single damn thing about how their parents met, or fell in love, or brought them into the world. But that's all about to change. Because there were good memories in there, too, and Harry can't find a reason to keep them to himself any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hopped Up On Blood and Pheromones

* * *

 

"Well, I... Jesus Christ this is exactly why your mum never told you this story."

"Quit stalling, Dad," Ollie intoned.

"I'm not stalling."

Cass raised an eyebrow and it caught him off guard. That was HIS eyebrow. Hellie could never raise hers. He'd teased her about it mercilessly, once upon a time. Not because he cared, but because she did, and because once upon a time, he'd looked for anything, anything, anything to keep the conversations going with her, to keep her near him. She had always liked a good argument.

Sometimes his children really did shock him with their... him-ness. Or her-ness. Kids really were the strangest almost-copies of you. Just shifted enough, just themselves enough, to make it shocking to notice their similarities sometimes. He'd never anticipated that.

But then, it had all happened so quickly, he hadn't really anticipated much at all.

And yet, here they were, thirteen years old, sitting there, raising his eyebrows back at him in their own faces, waiting to hear the story of how they'd come to be.

"I'm not, I swear!" he held up his hands as if in surrender. "I just really don't know any good way of starting this story."

"Spit it out, Dad." Cass slipped further down in her seat, reaching out and poking his leg with her toe.

He shifted, looking down at the floor, pretty sure it'd be impossible to look either of his children in the face when he started this tale.

"Alright. No sugar-coating here. Your mum and I had a one-night-stand. That's how we met. We were at a club in New York City, and... we had a one-night-stand."

Ollie choked on laughter. His eyes snapped up. Cass had paled.

"What's so funny about that, knucklehead?"

"I'd hardly call it a one-night-stand, Dad. You were together for a while, we already know that."

"Oliver James. What on earth do you know about one-night-stands?"

"Ugh, chill, Dad. I'm just saying, it's all in the name. A ONE-night-stand implies you were only together for that one night."

"The cheek of you," he scowled at this son, squinting his eyes and shaking his head.

Ollie ignored him. "Get on with it, Dad."

Teenagers. They just kept getting worse.

"I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear the first thing I noticed about your mum was her hair..."

  
*

_The back of Harry's shirt was beginning to soak through, and he could really use some fresh air -- in here everything was stale beer and cigarette smoke hair and decades of damp wood -- but there were paparazzi outside and he was just not in the mood. Elbowing his way off the crowded dance floor, Harry slid up to the bar, wiping at the suspicious stain on his chest. It looked like a splotch of watercolor paint, or ink that had smeared by a teardrop, only orange-er._

_"Water, please," he asked the bearded, tattooed, bored-looking barman. There was enough whisky in his veins to keep him going for days yet. He could ease up. He should ease up. Puking in public was extra unbecoming when you were a pop star. And your picture would likely end up in the papers, vomit smeared, just proving to everyone what a bad, bad boy you were. Just keeping the tiresome drone going._

_Leaning back and resting his elbows against the bar, Harry surveyed the room. The space in front of the stage that was currently serving as a dance floor was jammed with people, mostly women in various states of undress, writhing around and sweating. Somewhere in the middle, Louis was doing something that was probably meant to pass for dancing (it was mostly hopping) beside his girlfriend, who gazed at him so adoringly it was near sickening. And shit. Just beside Louis was an absolutely epic mane of ginger waves, attached to the body of the only girl in the room Harry thought was wearing too much clothing._

_Shit again._

_She'd caught him looking. He thought to feel embarrassed, but then one side of her lips quirked upward at him before she let her mouth fall slightly open as she ran a hand down her neck and over her chest, tractor beam eyes refusing to let him go._

_"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, and her eyes seemed to follow his command._

_"Withh pleassure," the woman beside him slurred, hanging onto the h and s for just a little bit too long._

_"Ugh, not what I meant," he said, rolling his eyes as he realized he'd practically asked for that._

_Harry couldn't even be bothered to look at this bird, the girl on the dance floor already consumed too much of his desire. But he could feel the drunk one's eyes on him, like they had presence, like they could touch, and he wanted the distraction to stop. In an attempt to evade her appraising gaze, he turned his chest just slightly, shoulder coming up like a low wall up between them. She didn't take the hint very well, and Harry found himself needing to step away slowly._

_The Ginger was now spinning a circle as she continued to swivel her hips. Facing away from him, body still sliding with liquid ease, she smiled wickedly over her shoulder, curling a finger in his direction. Harry didn't need any further invitation._

_When he reached the dance floor the Ginger grabbed his hand, raising it above their heads and twirling once, then again, eyes laughing and lips smiling before she rocked her body back against his. She hadn't exactly crashed into him, but Harry felt a little winded -- his laugh more like a forceful sigh -- well, a little bit winded and a lot aware of every inch of contact between their bodies._

_At no point in his life would Harry have ever described himself as a dancer of any sort. In fact, dancing was a thing he generally avoided altogether. But then, dancing with her wasn't so much dancing as trying desperately to keep up, racing to insure his body never lost its tenuous, torturous contact with hers, holding on for dear life._

_By the third song, the beat had slowed down, and Ginger had twisted in his arms, sliding one leg between his and getting close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his neck. His sweaty neck. The fingers of her right hand scratched deliciously down over the top of his spine before coming to rest just under the collar of his shirt. He pulled her closer, bringing his lips to her ear as he fought to keep the rhythm of his hips in sync with hers._

_"Hi," he rasped._

_"Hi," she sing-songed back, a laugh dancing at the edge of her voice._

_"I'm Harry."_

_She pulled back, biting her lips together, bemused. "I know."_

_"Can I get you a drink, Ms. Know?"_

_"Hilarious, Styles," she deadpanned. "And yes. Bar. Now."_

_So she did know who he was. Like... very exactly. He wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing. A thing he could use to his advantage, or something he should be worried about. This could go in so many directions and her face was difficult to read. Or, well... it was easy to read. The words he was getting just... didn't answer this particular question. The words on her face all translated to sex. Ridiculously dirty sex. Like she'd already undressed him with her eyes, and what she wanted more than anything was to have him inside her._

_Without another word, Ginger turned and Harry nearly tripped over his own feet following her. To steady himself, he pressed his fingers lightly to the small of her back. She leaned into them, then reached around behind her, trailing her fingertips from his elbow to his wrist before taking his hand in hers and pulling him along through the crowd. His skin suddenly felt cool, chilled in the wake of where her fingers had just been. When they reached the bar, she jammed an elbow up against it, catching bored-barman's eye easily and holding up two fingers before turning to face Harry again._

_"But really, what's your name?" he asked, catching her eye._

_"Hellie." The empty gaze he returned must have clued her in to his confusion. "Like Ellie, but with an H. Or 'haitch,' for the Brits in the room."_

_"Witty, Hell-acious."_

_"Wittier, Styles."_

_She was not going to give him an inch. He couldn't help but smile at the realization. Distracted by his own thoughts, Harry nearly missed the moment she reached up to graze the pad of her pointer finger over the dimple in his left cheek. He turned quickly and gently bit her first knuckle. Her eyes narrowed but she gave no other response._

_"So, Hellie. That's short for...?"_

_"Helen."_

_Harry felt his muscles clench as her fingers came to rest lightly against his stomach. He fought a gasp at the contact, trying to stay cool. This girl... if he wanted her, he had to play it cool. And he could do that. He could. He'd gotten very good at that game this last year or so. Sometimes it just took a little more effort than others. In an attempt to divert her attention, he leaned in, bringing his lips to her ear._

_"Something tells me 'Hellie' is much more appropriate."_

_"Why, what ever do you mean, sir?" her eyes lit up as she slid her hand away from him, flipping it up to her chest in a gesture of feigned shock._

_"I mean you look like trouble if I ever saw it."_

_Which was true. Even wearing 200% more clothing than any girl in the room -- no mini-dress threatening to expose her crotch with one wrong move here, just dark jeans and a tissue thin white tank through which he could see her bra -- sex and mischief just rolled off her in waves._

_"Well that makes us quite a pair, doesn't it, Mr. Swift?" she turned back to the bar just as her verbal jab landed against his chest. He dug his fingers into her sides with displeasure, yanking her hips back against him._

_"Low blow, young lady. Low blow," he growled in the general direction of her ear before reaching up to sweep the length of her thick, sweat dampened, gorgeous hair over the opposite shoulder. He'd never been much for redheads, but for her... he could get into it. He already was into it._

_As Hellie reached for their drinks -- two shitty beers and two shots of whisky -- Harry tightened his fingers in her hair, yanking just slightly, while keeping her hips against him with his free arm. He felt her shiver as he ran the tip of his nose up the back of her earlobe, following it with a nip of his teeth._

_Hellie reacted immediately, pressing her ass into his crotch and pushing backward to create room between her and the bar. The shock of her sudden movement, the pressure against his swelling crotch, caused him to release her hair. She spun fiercely, fisting her hands in the fabric of his shirt on either side of his chest and yanking him back against her hard enough to rip yet another button open. Their mouths crashed together, neither one wasting any time with closed lips or cautious tongues. Harry pressed forward again, never breaking the contact of their lips, pinioning her to the bar with his body as he gripped the edge so fiercely you'd think he was attempting to grind it to a pulp with his hands. It was just... if he put his hands on her skin... it was over. He would explode._

_Meanwhile, Hellie moved one hand from around his neck and rested it against the exposed portion of his chest, gently flicking at a nipple before sliding it around to his back and pulling him closer. He pressed against her even harder, letting her swallow his moan with her mouth before dragging his lips to her neck._

_"Bathroom, now," she growled against his ear._

_"No. Home," he countered, before swooping down to swallow any protest._

_He could think of six million ways he wanted to take her, but none of them involved getting some sort of horrific germy thing from the disgusting bathrooms in this shitty club. In one swift move he spun them around and pushed her toward the door, swatting at her ass before he fumbled to find a wad of cash to leave on the bar._

  
*

  
"Is that club still there?" Cass asked.

"I wouldn't know. My clubbing days are long over, kiddo."

"Come on, Dad. We see the papers. We know you still go out," Ollie pressed.

"Not like I used to. I'm too old for that rubbish. Besides, Lit Lounge was... a very specific kind of club for very specific kinds of nights. It's not a place I'd choose anymore."

"What about your new girlfriend, huh?" Cass asked, tone dark, she was always the protective one.

He shook his head. He kept his kids away from the women in his life for a reason -- because none of them seemed to stick for very long, and his children didn't need a revolving door of strangers in their lives. And Because Hellie would have killed him many years ago if he hadn't taken that pretty seriously. But it was impossible to keep all news media away from them.

"None of your beeswax, monkey," he replied, affectionately slipping back into terms of endearment from their childhood. Cass wrinkled her nose quite adorably, though he'd never tell her that. "I honestly haven't spent much time in that neighborhood in a decade, but Lit had always felt like... part of Manhattan, like it had been there forever, even when it hadn't. Sort of old and shitty, with a crowd that never really aged. Young people who wanted to get drunk and snog a stranger. It's hard to imagine it not being there."

"So you wanted to get drunk and snog a stranger, huh?"

Leave it to Ollie to never, ever, let anything slip past him.

"I was there because we knew the DJ. We'd just won an MTV Music Award that night and we wanted to celebrate. Famous though we were, four of us were under twenty-one, so in the States it was always easier to go places where we knew people."

"Oooo, Dad, drinking under age!" teased Cass.

"Yeah. And I'll rip your heads right off your shoulders if you two ever attempt to pull that shite. Besides, you guys only have to make it to eighteen over here anyway. I was already well legal everywhere but the States. It wasn't as if that was my first night drinking."

"So what happened, I mean... don't like... tell me, tell me. Because... ew. But what happened after that night?" she asked.

"I got stuck in pretty fast after that. I think I started falling in love with your Mum that night, but the next day... It was basically all over for me."

"Awww, Daddy!" Cass cooed.

"Ugh. Gross," Ollie added.

He just laughed.

  
*

  
_"I can't believe you left your credit card at the bar." Harry laughed, tucking hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek in his hand. This close, sober and in the morning light, he could see that her eyes weren't strictly blue, but more like... blue seen through a green filter._

_"Really, caveman? Do you not recall grunting the word 'home' at me and shoving me toward the door?"_

_"You could have stopped me." He smiled._

_"I could have done a lot of things, but I was pretty excited about getting your pants off at that point and you didn't seem to think the bathroom was an appropriate solution."_

_"Haha," he laughed, falling onto his back and pressing his head back against the pillow before recalling wistfully, "You were pretty wet when I finally got you in this bed."_

_"Pretty wet? Check the floor, I think my underwear have dried into a solid state this morning. I was soaked."_

_"No complaints here."_

_"You better not have any complaints. I won't be able to walk without pain for days."_

_He knew she was only kind of kidding. They'd had sex more times, and in more positions, than he'd thought possible in one night. Harry wasn't exactly the Lothario the rest of the world believed him to be -- thank you, mass media -- but still... several of those positions were entirely new. And no one had ever let him try anal before. He still kind of couldn't believe Hellie had. Frankly, he hadn't even meant to. He'd just... missed. And when she didn't stop him, well... who was he to argue? Especially when it felt that amazing, made her whimper-y and pliant under his hands._

_...And he was getting hard just thinking about it._

_"I see someone is remembering something pleasurable," Hellie teased, lightly grazing her fingers down the center of his stomach and over his pelvis until they disappeared beneath her soft black sheets and took hold of his erection firmly. He gasped._

_"I'd hardly call this a memory," he replied, reaching down and guiding her hand up his shaft then back down._

_He moaned pathetically when she pulled her hand away, jutting his bottom lip out at her, but the only response he received was a roll of her expressive (read: sarcastic) bluegreen/greenblue eyes. Without much movement she reached behind her, pumping lotion into her hand before returning it to his pulsing member._

_"Cry-baby," she laughed._

_How was he supposed to know there was a bottle of lotion beside her bed?_

_"Tease," he bit back, wincing with pain/pleasure as she dug her nails into the bottom of his shaft for a moment to punish him. He reached down and tweaked one of her nipples before the pleasure was too much for any coherent thought or action._

_Hellie silenced his cries of ecstasy with a deceptively sweet kiss, then cleaned them both up before curling against his side again. Harry ran a hand over her back, reaching down to slide it between her legs, but he felt her shake her head against his chest._

_"Not now," she said, softly._

_"Hell, you just... And I want to make you--"_

_"Later, I promise. I'm not letting you off the hook, I'm just... tired, I guess."_

_He realized just from the sound of her voice that she was telling the truth, "Go back to sleep," he said softly, words brushing across the top of her head as she twisted and rolled over, body facing away from him but head still on his forearm, back pressed against his side._

_He kissed the top of her head before resting his head back down. The urge to pull her closer was damn near overwhelming, but something made him think she wouldn't welcome the move, so he settled for staring up at the wall above the bed. There was a chalkboard painted there, with words scrawled in what he could only assume was her loopy hand. They were difficult to read from his angle, which only made him all the more curious._

_"What's on the chalkboard?" he asked, forgetting his previous directive._

_"Song lyric."_

_"That's helpful. What song? Which lyric?"_

_"'Sugar We're Going Down,' which you are probably too young to even remember."_

_"Hey, now," he jostled her with his arm. "I'm not that young."_

_"You're like... easily a decade younger than me, bro," she intoned. He didn't like the sound of the word 'bro.' It was distancing._

_"I don't care how old you are. Or how... not old I am. And I remember 'Sugar We're Going Down,' so, there."_

_"You should care," she mumbled, but he ignored her, pressing on._

_"You've got words tattooed on your arm, too. I'm not stupid enough to miss the fact that words obviously mean something to you, so, tell me about the lyrics on the wall."_

_"They read 'I'm just a notch on your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song,'" she replied, still facing away from him. His heart was starting to pound. He hoped she couldn't feel it._

_"That's kind of..."_

_"Ironic?"_

_"Dark, considering, well... Do you really think of -- of things that way?"_

_"Asks the guy who fucked my brains out the night he met me."_

_He hated where this conversation was going. Distance. More and more felt like it was growing between them, even though he could still feel her skin, soft and warm against his side, her head on his bicep. Harry didn't understand it, precisely, but there was something about this woman. He wanted to be around her. Stay around her. He hardly knew her, but he didn't want this... whatever it was, to end._

_"I wasn't planning on putting any notches in my bedpost."_

_"It's a figure of speech."_

_"Again, I'm not stupid. I get it. It's just so... it's like armor. Like you're already telling me I can't hurt you because you never let me in."_

_"Not to be a total dick, but I just met you. I haven't let you in anything but my panties."_

_Scoffing, Harry caught himself smiling at the ceiling. She wasn't going to make this easy. He kind of didn't care._

_"Okay, well... why Fall Out Boy, then? Big fan?"_

_"Not at all. I just liked the idea of juxtaposing that lyric with my big, inviting bed."_

_"Mmmm, your bed_ **is** _pretty inviting," he murmured as he pressed his mouth into the side of her neck, kissing then licking her skin._

_As he exhaled softly over the wet patch his mouth had left behind, Hellie trembled and goose flesh raced across her skin. He knew he had her then, and with a gentle nudge of the arm beneath her head, she turned in his embrace to meet his lips once again._

*

"Your mum thought it was just the challenge I was after, but I knew otherwise. I don't think she believed in love at first sight anymore, by then, but I still did. Maybe just because I was young. And stupid. Maybe because... I dunno. I was an easier sell. And, sure, the challenge started out kind of fun, too, but... I was in deep. And fast."

"Mum was thirty then, right?" Cass asked.

"Not quite," he noted. "Your mom was twenty-nine at the time. I was nineteen-and-a-half"

"Like that half year made any difference," came another voice, one he'd recognize anywhere, from somewhere behind him.

"Uncle Louis!" Cass cried, leaping out of the vaguely dilapidated chair she'd been trying to pretend she was comfortable in. No one was comfortable here.

He felt his entire body sag with relief. Retelling the story of how he'd met Hellie had distracted him, but it hadn't eased the tension that had laced all his muscles tight, gathering his bones even closer together beneath them, as if that was the only thing keeping him from falling into a million useless pieces. Hospital waiting rooms made him -- okay, everyone -- feel horrible, he knew that. But with Hellie the one on the other side of those hermetically sealed doors... he wasn't sure if he'd hold up. At least with Louis here the kids wouldn't be alone when he finally fell apart.


	2. Mamma Cut Me Deeper

 

* * *

 

 

_**In entertainment news, it appears Harry Styles and ex Helen McGovern, the mother of his twins Cass and Oliver, may have been in a tragic car accident. Details are sparse, but McGovern and Styles are said to be in a London Hospital, at least one of them in critical condition. Radio 1 will bring you updates as soon as we have them.** _

*

He gazed into his son's bedroom, the wash of moonlight filtering through the window making both of his children visible, their sleeping forms side-by-side in Ollie's bed. The last time he'd seen this -- the two of them fast asleep, clutching hands -- they'd been so tiny, single digits even, protecting each other through a thunder storm. His heart ached. One blink of the eye and they were four again. One more and reality raced back in around the edges. They were thirteen. Teenagers. His babies. Too old to share a bed unless they were under extreme duress. Teetering on the edge of losing their mother.

Reality was the worst place right now.

He'd checked Cass' room first, maybe remembering the little girl who -- if he was honest -- had outgrown her Daddy phase far earlier than he'd been ready for, half a decade ago. It had been empty, and for the tiniest fraction of a second panic had flared in his chest. Nothing could happen to these kids. Not ever. Especially not now, but really, not ever. Not until long after he was gone.

Seeing Cass and Ollie together made things feel slightly less awful inside his chest, his gut, his soul. The world could only be so terrible if they had each other. And so, here he sat, on the edge of a bed he and Hellie had never shared, in a house he and Hellie had never shared, trying to fathom what came next, even if it was just a baby step. Wondering if he could sleep in this room, redolent with the smell of her, so familiar and so foreign. Wondering who _his_ other-half would be, in this. Who'd hold his hand while he slept? Who would get him through this night, or the day to follow, or the night and day after that and after that and after that.

*

_Harry twisted and untwisted the surface of the duvet between his fingers, perched lightly on the edge of Hellie's bed, keeping enough weight on his outstretched legs that he was practically standing. He wasn't sure if coming had been a bad idea. Or... he didn't think it was a bad idea, but he was beginning to sense that Hellie might._

_She was in the bathroom, carrying most of the weight of their light conversation as she removed the day's make-up and slid into pajamas. After all the sex they'd had in the past few weeks, Harry wasn't sure why Hellie needed any kind of privacy to change clothes -- he'd seen, and fallen in love with, every inch of her. Including several inches she'd probably never seen herself. He just wanted to be around her. To keep seeing those inches. To keep finding new ones beneath the surface. He didn't want walls, or doors, or privacy between them._

_All this empty chatter was frustrating._

_"I can go, you know," he offered as she climbed the stairs up to her lofted bedroom space. "If you don't want me here, I can go."_

_"It's not that, Harry, I just... wasn't expecting to see you tonight."_

_"And it was a bad surprise?"_

_"Don't mope. It's unbecoming."_

_"I'm not moping!"_

_"You are -- ugh, get over here," she gestured for him to get up. Fat chance._

_"No, you get over here," he growled, leaning forward far enough to catch hold of the edge of her gesture-y hand, then yanking her toward him and closing the space between them with a gruff kiss._

_Things escalated quickly, as they always did between he and Hellie, and before his mind could catch up, Hellie's fingers were working his belt open._

_"Stop," he breathed against her lips, twisting their fingers together as she fought to grasp his belt-buckle again. "That's not why I'm here."_

_"Isn't that always why you're here?" Hellie asked, pulling back to look him in the eye with a difficult-to-decode half-smile playing at her lips and a faraway look in her eyes._

_"No!" he yelped, then sighed, "I mean, that's always what happens. But..."_

_"But what?"_

_"It's not the only thing I want," he replied, hating the way she straightened in his embrace, as if she were about to step away from the bed. From him._

_"See, this is why," she said, tucking a bit of his hair behind his ear before walking away, looking at herself in the mirror near the staris, then continuing over her shoulder. "This is why I shouldn't be allowing this shit. The mornings-after, the breakfasts. It's like naming the stray kitten. Then you're stuck with them."_

_"Stuck with... What does that even mean?"_

_"I just mean... you and I, Harry, we don't make sense. I knew it the night we met. But the sex. Oh, god, the sex."_

_Harry sidled up behind her, catching her eye in the mirror before nuzzling her neck._

_"The sex is pretty brilliant, you have to admit," he teased._

_"Brilliant is an understatement," she allowed, "But I'm twenty-nine years old, Harry. I'm not like... some child looking for some ridiculous fantasy, who doesn't understand how all this goes. I want someone here on Friday nights -- like, all of them -- who has a steady job, and a steady home and... Chemistry is great, but it does not a relationship make. You and I... we're fire in the sack. Nothing more."_

_Her words were... harsh. But Harry didn't recoil. Like so many things with Hellie, Harry couldn't say what it was that gave him faith. Or any sense of certainty. But it was there, nonetheless. He knew she meant what she was saying on some level. On every level she was willing to recognize. Maybe it was the stray kitten reference. It just didn't quite fit. Even without a name, the kitten could come back all he liked. The naming problem was about her -- about her fondness, her desire to claim him, to keep him around._

_"Bollocks," he said, pulling her around to face him and growling in her ear, "That is complete bollocks. But if that's what you need to tell yourself, then fine."_

_He released her and popped a kiss on her cheek._

_"Fine?" she asked, watching skeptically as he began to disrobe._

_"Did you just try to raise an eyebrow at me?"_

_"I didn't try, you jackass. I totally did!"_

_"That's cute. That you think your eyebrow even moved. Well, I mean, one of them moved. But it didn't raise. It kind of pushed down, which almost made the other one look as if it had raised, but really..."_

_"First of all, fuck off, I have extremely expressive eyebrows. And second of all, what the fuck do you even think you're doing?"_

_Harry was getting ready for bed. Stripping down to his pants and pulling back the duvet on her bed. Piling decorative pillows off to the side and fluffing the feather pillow he hoped she'd end up sharing with him whenever this ridiculous fit was over._

_"What does it look like? I'm getting ready for bed. Now get over here. I'm about the crank the air-conditioning so we can cuddle."_

_She did that thing again where she thought she was raising an eyebrow._

_"I mean, I can ravish you, if that's really why you agreed to have me over tonight. But I know we both have to work in the morning, so..." Harry held the duvet open and Hellie slid in beside him. "We could talk about that, too, by the way. If you're not ready to sleep yet. Work, I mean."_

_They lay down on their sides, facing each other, and Harry gathered her hands up between them before tangling his calves into hers. Hellie giggled as one of his toes brushed the bottom of her foot._

_"Ticklish, are we?"_

_"As if I'd tell you."_

_Silence fell and Harry knew the smile he was wearing was probably a little bit too triumphant, too goofy. But he'd managed to disengage Hellie's mounting panic. Her urge to slam on the breaks. And that was something. That was something he liked._

_"I can wait, you know. I'm more patient than you think. Someday, you're going to stop being scared and admit you're in love with me." Hellie blanched. "Or at least in very, very serious like."_

_"Fuck off, Styles. It's time for bed," Hellie rolled her eyes and flipped over, shoulders and back remaining tense until Harry slid closer, fitting his body against hers. He could hear her contended sigh, feel her melt against him. And that was more than enough. That was a start._

*

He woke, curled up in a ball on Hellie's bed, fully dressed, fully on top of the bedclothes, wishing he could forget for even just a moment why he was there.

There were a thousand million messages backed up in his phone, too many of them from Bekki, who was just so worried, just wanted to help, just wanted to hold him, just missed him so much, just needed to know he was okay, just needed to hear from him, just wanted to know where he was staying, just wanted to come over, just wanted to hold him so so so tight, just prayed he was okay, just needed to hear his voice, just just just. Frustrated and overwhelmed, he tossed the phone to the side.

Things had already been... No. That wasn't even fair. Things hadn't already been falling apart with her. Things with Bekki had never even gotten serious for him. They'd only been seeing each other for a few months, and with work... they'd hardly been in the same place at the same time. He'd only recently begun debating whether or not he wanted to put in more effort, take things more to heart, give it a real go. And he'd hesitated a bit, sure. But he was just being cautious. And now... now he couldn't spare a single thought for the 25-year-old actress who hadn't yet earned a place in this part of his life. Now things were too messed up. Now things were... over. He knew that in his chest. He was in crisis and they were over.

The sound of Louis shouting at the top of his lungs as he walked in the front door -- something about letting himself in, and good morning, and a fry-up -- forced Harry to sit up. This day, day two, was happening. He had to face it. Cass and Ollie needed him. Hellie needed him.

It was strange to see Louis in Hellie's kitchen, those parts of his life having been so separate for the last decade or more. Not that Louis -- or any of the lads, for that matter -- and Hellie didn't get on. For sure, there had been times when Harry would not have counted Louis as Hellie's biggest fan, or even any kind of fan at all. But those years were long past. Age, time, experience had softened them all. These days, these years, everyone got on pretty famously, and saw each other pretty regularly, in fact. It was just... that had always been on Harry's turf -- at his flat or his shows or his office. He was pretty sure Louis had never been to Hellie's place.

Things were colliding all over again. Old and new parts of his life. All because... because two nights ago he'd been too pissed to drive, and Hellie had come to the rescue once again. He'd have been in the gutter a hundred thousand times over without Hellie, and she was the one stuck in that hospital, fighting for life. Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

"I know I'm making a bit of a mess of things in here, but I'll clean up, I swear," Louis said, looking up from the island, surrounded by what must have been the entire contents of Hellie's cabinets.

"Uncoh Hawwy!" a very small, very blonde child barreled at his knees.

"Hey there, beautiful girl," he cooed, hoisting Louis' first born into his arms. "How's my Vivienne Louise?"

"SO GOOD!" she exclaimed. "I'm gonna go see a movie with Cassie!"

"Just in the living room, Dad," Cass soothed, as if she sensed his silent panic at the idea of her leaving the house. "I'll get it started and then come back when Uncle Louis has breakfast ready. Vivi can keep watching."

It wasn't that he thought if he let either one of the kids out of his sight he'd lose them, perhaps forever. Or at least, it wasn't entirely that. Because it was mostly just... morning. It was a new morning and he hadn't yet checked the news, or talked to anyone, or even looked outside the front door, and he didn't know what was waiting for them outside the bubble of relative sanctuary Hellie's house had provided that night. He couldn't let his child walk out the front door into a paparazzi onslaught, and that's almost certainly what she'd be facing if the press had figured out he was fine, he was outside the hospital, he was here at Hellie's place. _He_ didn't even want to face that, and it had been his job for near twenty years now. His children shouldn't have to.

"Eleanor is going to stop by and pick Vivi up, I swear," Louis seemed to pick up on Harry's tension too, bless him. Also, curse him. Was Harry that obvious? "I just didn't want to bugger-up our Saturday morning trip to the bakery. It's tradition, and I know everything is barking right now, absolutely sideways, but I don't want Vivi to feel..."

"Hey, mate, it's--" Harry shook his head to clear the haze, "No worries. I get it. I barely remember when Cass and Ollie were that small. It all happens so fast, you should enjoy it while you can," he said. Then, because he sounded painfully sappy, and painfully sappy was close enough to the kind of feelings that would break him apart just then, "You can curse in front of thirteen-year-olds, but they're way less fun on the whole. Speaking of thirteen-year-olds, where's my son?"

"Out the back juggling a football. Every once in a while he kicks it at the wall real hard and I know he's still fine," Louis replied, beating eggs with a whisk.

"Scrambled eggs?"

"Don't look at me like that, you're the one who reproduced with an American. Your kids don't like fried eggs."

"Fair, fair. I'll just fry some up for myself, then..."

"You will do no such thing. I'm on breakfast duty today. Make yourself a cuppa and sit down. I'll fry the eggs. And scramble the eggs."

"Duty?" Harry raised an eyebrow at his best friend, checking the kettle.

"Look it's not like we're taking shifts, mate. But I dunno. It's just what you do when the bad stuff happens. You pitch in and you help. Make casseroles and shit. You should see what Eleanor is bringing over here, I swear she's lost her mind. But just... let us do it, okay, mate? We love you and we can't help Hellie, so just... let us do what we can."

Harry's just settled into a seat at the table when outside the football hit the outside wall of the kitchen so loudly he felt the sound echo inside his brain.

"Ollie's angry," he sighed.

"Wouldn't you be if your mum was in that hospital bed?"

"I am and she's not even my mum."

"No she's just the love of your life," Louis muttered, mostly under his breath. Harry heard him. His heart twinged.

"But I've got no one to blame but meself, so..." he dropped his head into his hands.

"Not true. There's a driver, somewhere out there, who did this, Haz."

"Yeah, but..."

"Nope. Actually not playing this game with you. You're not at fault just because you were in the car. Or because you called her for a ride or whatever. And if you insist on being a mopey arse, well set on blaming himself for someone else's shite driving, I'm going to make sure you don't get anywhere near Hellie. She doesn't need this kind of negative energy around her. So. Get your shit together."

Louis punctuated his speech with the jab of a spatula before he turned to poke at a sizzling egg. Mushrooms and tomatoes were in another pan, and rashers and sausages were under the girll. The house was beginning to smell like... life. Like life. Harry took a deep breath, listening to the sound of Cass' voice filtering in from the front room and Louis' cooking, and focused on releasing it slowly. He took another, closing his eyes and slumping back down in his hair. He'd counted thirty slow, steady breaths before Louis spoke up again.

"I'm nearly done. Go get Cass and Ollie, will you, you great useless oaf?"

"Wanker," Harry fired back as he pushed his chair away from the table.

"Or, Haz, wait one second. Before the kids are back here... I listened to the news this morning. They still haven't figured out whether or not you were both hurt. No one saw you leaving, no one saw the kids at all," Lou paused. Harry felt tension melt out in lines that originated between his shoulders. "I don't think they've even found the hospital yet. So... you're clear this morning. But today, or tonight, or... at some point, you have to call our press rep. Alex was melting down this morning, thinking you were dead because he heard the news and he couldn't get you on your mobile, and... You've got to call. Even if it's just to have him misdirect the paps or something. I know you need time, but I just think..."

"I will, Lou. I'll call once we're back at hospital. Once I know where Hellie's folks are, I'll call Alex. I'll help him sort it."

"Okay," Louis' shoulders eased a bit, too. "Okay. Go get the kids."

In minutes everyone -- besides Vivi, who remained glued to Frozen, one of Cass' favorite Disney movies -- was clambering around the table piling their plates high with Louis' surprisingly tasty fry-up. Chewing on a rasher with particularly perfectly crisped edges, Harry smiled at Louis, trying to communicate his thanks -- his relief -- without having to find the words.

"You're welcome," Louis mouthed, smiling fondly before diverting laughing eyes at Ollie who looked like he was trying to set a land-speed record for consuming breakfast.

"It's not going anywhere, you know. You can slow down, Ol," Harry said, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair.

Ollie just snorted, ran a hand impatiently over the spot Harry had just touched, and reached for more sausages. Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to feel stung. He was all raw, like every part of him -- skin and bone and soul -- was an exposed nerve ending. Teenagers, however, were teenagers. Whether or not their mum was in the hospital.

"Daddy?" Cass asked experimentally.

"Yes, monkey?" he replied. Cass didn't even roll her eyes.

"Would you tell us another story about you and Mommy?"

"Well... we left off yesterday with your mum finally letting me just... be around her. No ulterior motives, just because I wanted to be near her, and talk to her, and okay, sometimes I liked to touch her, too."

"Sometimes?" Louis asked, stifiling a laugh.

"Shut it, Lou."

"I'm just saying. In those days I don't think I ever saw you in a room with her where you were more than arm's length away. You were always touching her some little way or another, it made me want to puke, but I suppose it was kind of sweet in it's own twisted way."

"You guys met Mommy back then?" Ollie asked.

And oh, god, it was bad. Both his children using 'Mommy' again. As if he hadn't sat on the phone and listened to Hellie cry for easily twenty minutes the day Ollie had told her he'd never call her 'Mommy' again because that was kid stuff, far beneath his twelve-year-old self. He sighed, trying not to let anyone hear him, and let Louis carry the story for a moment.

"Of course. Your dad was so excited he basically brought her round the minute she'd agreed to it. We were in... Australia, right, Haz?"

"Yeah, that was..." he laughed to himself just slightly. "Ehm. That had been impulsive. I'd just been Skyping with your mum and she finally, FINALLY admitted she had feelings for me, after like a month and half of me pretending not to push her and her pretending we were just... hanging out and talking and missing each other more and more for absolutely no reason. Needless to say I was a little excited, so, I bought her a ticket to Australia like, right away. Without even asking. And she was only cross with me for a second or two. Because honestly, who gets genuinely cross about a free vacation? Plus, she'd never been to Australia before, and because, well... your mum has always been rubbish at scheduling time off, anyway. So really, I was doing her a favor..."

*

_"I'm sorry I couldn't come get you at the airport, Hell," Harry murmured into her hair as he lifted her off the ground in a crushing hug._

_"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I know you're working. Besides, that would have been... a shitshow. You at the airport? You'd never be able to keep your head down long enough to get me without being noticed. They're mad for you guys over here. I mean, don't think I've forgotten those kids tried to break into Liam's room the other day."_

_"I don't care?" he sort-of asked, not waiting for her reaction before he dipped his lips down to hers for a very long overdue kiss._

_"You don't care that little girls are trying to break into your hotel rooms?" she asked, skeptical._

_"You're so good at changing sub--" she bit off the rest of his sentence with another kiss, this one deeper, more probing, and before he knew it, Hellie had backed them into the edge of the couch._

_Together they tumbled over the arm rest and somehow Harry managed to keep them from tumbling further to the floor, one hand holding Hellie to him, and the other gripping the back of the couch. They kissed hungrily for a few minutes more, but when Hellie began to use the leverage provided by the couch to grind her hips against him, Harry pulled back._

_"There's plenty of time yet for that, sweetheart."_

_"I think I prefer 'Hell' to 'sweetheart,'" She intoned, rolling her eyes and pulling away, clearly annoyed._

_"You make it sound like you don't like 'Hell' either, duck."_

_"You read me like a book."_

_"You know you could have told me," he said softly, soothingly, pulling himself to a proper seated position and reaching a hand toward Hellie._

_"I'm being hangry," she confessed, shoulders slipping._

_"I know," he laughed. And he had known. This temper was one he'd experienced before. He began to rise from the couch, "I can get you some room service, if you want."_

_"I'll take a look at the menu in a minute," she replied, yanking on Harry's hand to keep him from moving away. "It's fine that you call me 'Hell,'" she paused, lost in thought. "You're the only person I've ever let do it, actually. I don't even really know why I let you start, cause normally, I hate it-- reminds me of being teased at school. But when you say it, I dunno. It sounds different. It feels different."_

_"Well, I say it with love," he teased, leaning in to nose at her neck, pressing his next words just below the place where her jaw and her ear met, "And that makes all the difference."_

_"Maybe," she conceded. "Or maybe I just like your cute accent. Maybe that's the whole reason I agreed to date you in the first place. So you'd quit whining about it and I could keep hearing you say my name in that very cute, utterly un-posh accent of yours."_

_"Whatever, HELL, we both know you like my arse. And that thing I do with--"_

_He'd dug his fingers into her sides, forgetting just exactly how ticklish she was, until Hellie cut him off with a howl that was equal parts indignant scoff and high-pitched laughter. Immediately she began pushing at his hands and squirming to get away. Immediately he began trying to find every possible ticklish spot on her body. At some point they rolled to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs and kept at it. Harry hadn't laughed so long or so hard with a girl in... longer than he could remember. Maybe ever._

_When they finally tired, Harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm his breathing as Hellie nestled her head against his chest and traced patterns over his t-shirt with her fingertips._

_"Someday, I'll pick a nickname for you. I promise," she half-whispered. "I just... I don't like the usual suspects. Babe, or baby or whatever. They feel... not personal enough. Not ours enough. I just want it to be ours. Not everyone's, you know? But I'll get over it, I swear, I'll find something..."_

_Heart racing and melting at the same time, Harry pulled Hellie's chin up and crushed his lips down on hers. He knew that admission had cost her something. That all of this cost Hellie more than it cost him. And she could call him anything she wanted, as long as she kept doing it. Kept picking up the phone, or waking up by his side, or sitting across the table from him at dinner whenever she could._

_"Come on, you. Let's get some food up here before you have another mood swing."_

_Hellie swatted at him halfheartedly as he pushed himself upright, but she stayed there on the floor while he padded across the suite to find the room service menu. Looking back over his shoulder Harry thought it would be easy -- too easy -- to get used to the sight of her there, in his room. He thought he should be scared. Or more cautious. He realized he actually didn't care._

*

He sighed as Louis, who had finally given in and let him help, handed over the final dish that needed to be dried. The twins were changing clothes for the hospital, but he had nothing to change into. Would suffer another day in the same manky clothes he'd been in since Lou had first shown up at the hospital. They only mostly fit, and were largely more Louis' style than his own, but at least they weren't the accident clothes. Torn in places, stained with blood, forever tainted by the memory of becoming conscious in Hellie's wrecked car, and realizing the twisted metal around him made it impossible to get a good look at her unconscious face. Of the panic that had followed, clawing out his throat in raw, animalistic sounds. They'd thought he was far more injured than he was because of those sounds, given him more attention than he deserved while Hellie suffered, trapped and bleeding and god knows how close to gone.

He shook his head as he placed the dry skillet back down on the hob, tried to clear the horrible memory. He'd have to go home and get clean clothes eventually, but for now, this day-old, slept-in pair of trousers and shirt would have to do. Leaving the kids for even half a second seemed like an unreasonable request. In fact, they'd already been gone too long changing.

"I'll go round up the twins," Louis offered. "Meet you out front?"

"Yeah," he replied absently, knowing he'd do no such thing. He wasn't setting a foot outside that door until he absolutely had to. Out there, things were worse.

Instead, he went and gazed out the front window, eyes focusing and un-focusing on the tall green hedge that stood between Hellie's house and the street. A view he knew well. A view that had never really been his.

*

_"Morning," he said, voice thick with sleep._

_Hellie turned to gaze over at him from the armchair she'd dragged up to the window. There was a mug of coffee cupped between her palms and her toes rested on the windowsill._

_"Morning," she replied, more cheerily than he'd expected. It was a relief. Harry knew better than to be the first to speak in the morning, but sometimes, some things just couldn't be helped._

_"You're up early," he noted._

_"Jetlag, I think," she replied softly._

_"Come here to me, Helen Anne, it's lonely in this big bed."_

_She shook her head, smiling, before she sipped her coffee._

_"Please?"_

_She shook her head again, "I'm enjoying the view. ...Don't give me that face, Harry. Just come over here."_

_"I dunno, I think the view of what's in this bed is pretttty good."_  
  
 _"Eh, nothing I haven't seen," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him just the tiniest bit, smile rising, raying outward from the corners of her eyes. "Whereas, Sydney, well... That's all new to me."_

_Harry slid out from under the mountain of crisp, white bedding and padded across the carpet toward Hellie. He watched as she dropped her legs and put the mug down just in time for him to lean in for a kiss, one hand on each of the chair's armrests, body caging her in. As her fingertips trailed over the edge of his pants, half on his skin and half over the fabric, he inhaled sharply against her lips. When both of her hands came to rest against his backside he broke away with a playful smile._

_"You're just cruel sometimes, you know?" he teased in return, "Makes me wonder why I like you so much."_

_Darkness passed over her face, shading her eyes and tightening her jaw. His stomach clenched. Had he pushed too far?_

_"Why do you?" She asked, continuing when he remained silent, "Like me, I mean. Why do you even bother with me?"_  
  
 _"You're joking me, right? You know I was joking, right?"_

_"I know you were, but I'm not. I just... I can't even believe I'm sitting here, in this hotel room, looking at this view and there's you, in that bed, looking at me like... like that."_

_Harry had dropped to his knees in front of her, and she ran her fingertips over his brow, then up a cheekbone. He grabbed hold of her hand just before her fingers reached his hair and turned his face to press a slow kiss against her palm._

_"I can't like, make you a list. It's not your hair or your eyes or... I don't know what you need to hear, Hellie. It's just a feeling I have, in my chest, or deeper than that, in some other place that reaches out and grabs at the inside of my chest, that you are the thing that matters. Bad attitude and hard edges and perfect upper lip and foul mouth and warm body and twisty, confusing brain and obscure literary tattoos and all. You are a thousand million parts that come together and make me want to answer every question with your name. And I have no fucking clue what that means and I don't even really know what I just said, but I know, at my core, that it feels true."_

_"Harry," she whispered, fingers digging painfully into his cheek. A sigh. "I want to be worthy of that."_

_When she leaned forward to kiss him, nothing felt close enough. Tugging himself into the space between her legs wasn't it, pulling her to the edge of the seat, torso flush against his wasn't it, feeling her hands in his hair, her tongue in his mouth, that wasn't it. Nothing was enough._

_After a desperate tug at her hips he overbalanced, taking Hellie to the floor with him. She laughed as they fell, then pulled back to sit up, straddling him with one hand pressed against his sternum. He held her gaze for a moment, before turning his silent attention to the skin of her forearm, tracing the path of his eyes with his fingertips, from freckled wrist inward, around to the alabaster skin through which he could see the dark lines of her veins, up, up, up to that literary tattoo, black letters against the gutter of her elbow tracing words from a book he'd never read._

_"Why did you come, Hellie?" he asked, eyes pleading, "Why did you stop keeping me at arms length?"_

_"I missed you. And I don't know. I think I just... I was talking to Laura and suddenly I heard it: all the reasons I had for holding back sounded hollow when I said them out loud."_


	3. We Boycott Speaking In the Future Tense

* * *

 

Louis drove. From the front passenger seat, twisted all the way round and straining against his seatbelt, he tried to catch both his children's eyes at once.

"Ollie, leave Vivi's car-seat alone, just... Can you listen to me for a minute? I promise I'll shut up as soon as I'm through this with you."

"We're listening, Daddy," Cass replied, shouldering Ollie to attention.

"So, ehm... So the media knows your mother and I were in a car accident, but they don't know I wasn't hurt so there's... a lot of attention on the situation right now. As far as we know, they haven't sorted which hospital your mum is at, so hopefully it's pretty quiet when we get there but... I can't promise that. If there's press when we get there just, please, stay close to me. Keep your heads down and walk inside -- don't say anything, don't look at them, nothing. Just stay close to me and keep moving. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the twins replied in chorus. Ollie didn't even look like he was biting back a cheeky comment.

"I'm going to have to put out a statement, soon, if only to try and decrease the hysteria by letting people know I'm okay. I wanted to buy as much time as I could before putting any information out there, but the accident hit the news last night, and... I think once your Grammy and Poppy get here, and I've had a chance to talk to them for a minute, I'll release something, or -- Okay, you kids don't need all the details. Just, try not to worry about the press, alright? And if anyone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me right away. I will handle them."

"Okay, Dad," Ollie replied, seriously, leaning into his sister a bit.

Louis' phone began ringing just as he twisted back around in his seat. With the press of a button Zayn's voice rang through the car.

"Hey mate. I just got here, and ehm... well, let's just say I used the back entrance. It's not a mob, but there are paps out the front."

He dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

"Is that Harry?" Zayn asked.

"Yes," he replied at the same time as Louis said, "You're on speaker."

"Hey Haz, how are you and the kids holding up?"

"Brilliantly," he answered through his fingers.

"I'm sorry, mate... Louis, do you know how to get round the back?"

"Think so. I'll call if we have a problem. I might come up from the east and not the west, see if that helps, too. Then I won't have to pass the paps to get round back."

"Yeah, do that. Call if you get lost. Niall and Liam are on the way, too."

"See yas soon," Louis replied, hanging up without waiting for more information.

"Getting the band back together," he mused, "God, this is the worst reason."

"Pull yourself together, Haz, you saw all of us in the studio last week."

"I know, I know, I just... I slept poorly last night, and..."

"Well, buck up. We're nearly there, and I promise, you'll be glad to have all of us around. Besides imagine how much Hellie would LOVE to wake up with all of us staring down on her at once. It'd be magical!"

"Shut-up," he muttered, ducking his head back into his hands again, determined not to pick it back up until absolutely necessary.

"Daddy, when do Grammy and Poppy get here?" Cass asked, voice sounding small.

"Around dinner, I think. I'll check my email again in a minute."

"Will we be allowed to see mum?" Ollie asked.

"I hope so. But we might have to wait a bit. We'll be there before visiting hours start up."

"Will you tell us a good story about you and mum while we wait?" Cass' voice was smaller again. Was getting smaller and smaller the closer they got to the hospital.

"Of course, monkey."

"This one better be good, Dad-- we're hanging on by a thread here. We could snap at any moment. Don't screw it up," Ollie added dryly.

"Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you inherited your mother's sense of humor?" he asked, rolling his eyes despite the fact that neither of his children could see it.

"Not recently, but I am happy to take compliments whenever I can get them."

"In fairness, Haz, you're pretty cheeky yourself," Louis added.

"I'm sorry, Lou, but I don't think I heard anyone ask for your opinion," he reached out and shoved Louis as Cass and Ollie snickered in the back. "When I open my eyes again, I truly hope you're both seven, and so excited to see me that you can't stop shouting utter nonsense in delight."

The back entrance was quiet and everyone got inside unmolested and he couldn't even remember the last time Zayn had hugged him so tightly. Couldn't remember the last time it had felt so important. Hated what was happening even more, even as he was comforted by the way the people he loved were closing ranks around him and the twins.

Privately, a cute young nurse assured Harry that even though visiting hours weren't open yet, she'd been keeping special eye on Hellie, whose vitals had been fairly steady overnight. Hellie was still unconscious, so they wouldn't be missing much while they waited to be allowed back again, but she promised to come get them the very second she could. Harry smiled softly and touched her arm as he thanked her, a strange tide of guilt rising inside him as he did so.

Parting ways with the nurse, Harry sunk down in a seat beside Cass, who immediately wiggled closer, pulling his arm up and around her shoulders, ducking her head to his side.

"Story time?" he asked, eager for distraction. Cass nodded against his chest. "Where did I leave off?"

"Australia. Mum had just come to tour for the first time."

"You're telling them the story of how we met Hellie?" Zayn asked.

"I was telling them the story of how **_I_** met Hellie. But yes, this is the part where you guys are about to meet her."

"Oh mate," Zayn chuckled, looking over at Louis. "Do you remember how much you hated her?"

"What?" Cass bolted upright, curious. Or upset. Maybe both. It was all unclear.

Louis shot an absolutely deadly glance at Zayn, who had the good sense to look at least a little sheepish.

"I didn't hate your mum, kids," Louis defended as Zayn finally seemed to realize why Louis was so upset.

"Oh shi-- Sorry! I didn't mean, I mean..." Zayn fumbled.

"What Uncle Zayn means," he intoned, looking down at his cuticles before catching Ollie's eye, "Is that it took Uncle Louis a little while to warm up to your mum."

"It was because I love your dad, I swear. It was just... your dad was still so young, and your mum was so... I didn't think she was as serious about your dad as he was about her, and I just wanted to protect him."

*

_"So, Hellie. This is the girl you've been hiding in your room all week, huh?" Louis said, looking skeptically between Harry and Hellie, who stood a few steps apart in the hotel corridor._

_"Strictly speaking I wouldn't call it hiding, but..." Harry began, only to be interrupted by Niall who bounded out of his room, extremely-caffeinated beverage in one hand and headphones about his neck. Without hesitation he approached Hellie and held out a hand._

_"So you're the one Harry's going on about all the time, then, yeah?"_

_"Hellie," she replied, smiling._

_"I'm Niall."_

_In that moment, Niall was like a ray of sunshine, blotting out the stormy cloud Louis had dragged out with him. It was a relief. The last thing Harry needed was an argument with Louis. Hellie was already nervous about meeting everyone, and worse, about the fact that she was about to have to leave the hotel with them. She'd been laying low all week, exploring Sydney alone while Harry was working, then hiding it out with him in the room every other spare moment. No amount of cajoling would convince her to go anywhere else at his side. She'd been there nearly four days and was only just now meeting the lads._

_Part of him understood her fear. The other part of him was stung. That part couldn't quite understand what kept holding her back. And it was that part that had complained to Louis earlier in the day. Needless to say, Louis hadn't taken it well. He'd warned Harry off Hellie several times already. (She's too old/You don't just date the girl you met at a club/What's wrong with her that she's still single?) And hearing that she was avoiding being seen in public with him had upset Louis more than Harry had even suspected possible. He'd just needed to vent and hadn't meant to make it worse, but Louis had... Too late, he supposed._

_"Hellie, this is Zayn, and that's Liam coming up the hall now," Harry said, watching as Hellie stepped forward to take Zayn's hand, then Liam's._

_He was only a little bit shocked when Hellie stepped back, very close to him, and slid her hand inside his. He relaxed against her side, which seemed to relax her, too._

_"It's nice to finally meet you guys. Harry barely talks about anything else," she smiled blindingly, first at the boys, then at him._

_"Can't imagine why," Liam joked._

_"I know, you guys hardly spend any time together at all. It's annoying, really, what a terrible conversationalist this guy is," she replied, everyone laughing lightly around them. "Totally incapable of finding anything interesting to say."_

_"Have you enjoyed Australia so far, Hellie?" Liam asked. Bless him._

_"Yeah!" she supplied excitedly. "I've been trying to keep busy while you're all working, and I've seen basically everything I wanted to, or at least, all the main attractions. I tried to take it sort of easy, make time to hang out with a drink and a book. I don't take a lot of time off of work, so, this is a treat. I'm totally looking forward to Melbourne, too. I have a good friend who grew up there, and he's actually home right now, so he's going to show me around."_

_"He?" Harry heard Louis mutter under his breath. He cut his friend a silencing glare and prayed Hellie hadn't heard him._

_"What d'ya do for work?" Niall asked, bouncing on his toes._

_"I'm an Associate Creative Director of Copy at an ad agency in New York," she supplied, squeezing Harry's hand as he began rubbing his thumb in gentle patterns across her skin._

_"Brilliant," he smiled, "Sounds fancy."_

_"It's not really, I assure you, but I love it. I manage a great team, and I get to play with words all day long, which I utterly adore. So that part is fantastic. But it's... a lot. I work a lot."_

_"We know exactly what that's like," Zayn offered quietly, then yawned._

_"I can't hold a candle to what you all do, really. I can't even... I didn't even begin to understand it until I got here. The crowds outside the hotel, the people sneaking in, the... Down time isn't really a part of your lives anymore. I'd go insane if I had to be... on all the time. It's like you have to be in character all the time or something."_

_"It's not all the time, Hellie," Harry offered softly, hearing anxiety behind her words, before leaning over to press a tender kiss to the curve of her jaw just beside her ear. "I don't have to be in character with you," he murmured._

_"Harry's right, Hellie. It's not all the time--" Liam had begun._

_"Wait. Harry. Hellie. Harry and Hellie..." Louis cut him off, something slightly dark at the edge of his voice. Harry's heart-rate rose immediately._

_"Zip it, Tomlinson," he fired across the hall, glowering at Louis and pulling Hellie's hand behind him. She shot him a quizzical look._

_"Has anyone ever told you two your names rhyme? How CUTE!"_

_Harry had known that was coming. And he knew why it made him nervous. And he hated himself for being nervous about it. Because that was just proving Louis right to begin with. If Hellie got freaked out by jokes about their... couple-y-ness, then Louis would take that as proof that he'd judged her correctly. And maybe he had. Maybe Hellie wasn't invested enough, maybe she was fucked up about a lot of things, maybe she was going to break his heart. Harry hated himself for doubting her, hated himself for falling so hard for someone he could doubt this way, hated that it wouldn't matter anyway, because he loved her. Already, he loved her._

_Hellie remained silent, one eyebrow lowered in Louis' direction, waiting for him to continue. Harry prayed for silence. For someone to change the subject._

_"You're like the cutest couple ever!" he continued._

_"I mean. We kind of are, so..." Hellie replied, her face a mask of sarcastic glee as she cocked her head to the side and held her free hand palm up as if to ask Louis what his point was._

_Silence fell. Hellie gripped tightly at Harry's hand as he watched the pulse in her throat race. Zayn coughed uncomfortably. Harry's mind turned over and over, searching for something to say to break the tension. Desperation had begun to sink in when, thankfully, Paul called up the hall that it was time to move out. They were off to Melbourne._

*

"She didn't even skip a beat!" Niall laughed. He'd turned up just as the story was starting, greeting Harry with a silent fist-bump before settling in to listen.

"I thought Harry was going to kill you, man," said Zayn.

"I was a git, okay? I admit it!" Louis held his hands up. "In my defense, though, she did keep acting weird for a while after that. And I was just trying to be a good friend!"

"Weird?" Ollie asked. "Weird how?"

"That's when he asked you to fake-date Kendall Jenner, isn't it, Haz?" Zayn asked.

"She didn't! It wasn't... it wasn't really her, and that wasn't... That wasn't weird!" he defended.

"Uh, yeah, mate, it was," Niall put in.

"It made sense at the time. You guys don't remember... Or I dunno, maybe you didn't even know, because you weren't inside. It wasn't like your relationships."

"No, clearly, it wasn't," Louis replied dryly.

"Don't listen to your uncle, kids. The whole Kendall thing totally made sense at the time. I know it sounds nuts, I mean, it was a little nuts. But our intentions were so good."

"You know what they say about good intentions," Louis replied.

"You guys are making me look so bad in front of these monsters," Harry moaned.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to tell them the story," Zayn pointed out.

"Would you guys just stop arguing and tell us what the heck is going on?" Ollie asked, vaguely exasperated. Parents were so embarrassing.

"You guys have to understand, when your mum and I got involved, she was a lot older than me..."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Ollie dead-panned.

"Ollie!"

"Just saying, Dad, Mum is still older than you. That kind of hasn't changed."

"I really do miss the days when you two did not talk back."

"When they were two?" Niall asked, rolling his eyes.

"ANYWAY! What I meant to say was just that when I was nineteen, that kind of age difference was a really big deal. People would care a lot less now, but then... Your mum was worried about what kind of attention and pressure that would add on to such a new relationship. And yeah, maybe we were overly cautious, but I can't... I don't think I'd change it."

*

_Harry wasn't long through the door of the new suite in Melbourne when Hellie was reaching for him, pulling him against her body, filling his nostrils with the warm, sandalwood-y scent of her. She'd beat him there by quite some time, a last minute meltdown causing her to insist on separating from the group and traveling with some of the staff so no one would realize she was with Harry._

_He was trying, valiantly, not to be hurt or worried. But already, he wanted to shout Hellie's name off rooftops. Tell everyone what he was feeling. The guys were within actual inches of killing him for going on about her so much. He needed a new audience. And Hellie, she may have given in. May have confessed to her feelings. But nothing seemed to scare Hellie more than the idea of people finding out about them. Harry had begun to wonder if Louis was right... what if it was a bad sign?_

_"Thanks," Hellie whispered against his ear, "I know you don't totally get it, but, I just... I don't know if I'm ready for people to know."_

_"You're right, I don't. But I didn't want to force anything on you before we could talk about it, really, so..." he trailed off, allowing her to kiss him softly._

_Hellie cupped both his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him once, twice, three times more. His arms tightened about her waist. When she pulled back Harry could see the track of a tear where it had once run through her blusher. He touched it gently and found it dry._

_"Were you crying?" he asked._

_"Only a little," she shrugged, trying to look away._

_"Hellie, what's wrong? What's going on? Everything seemed fine all week, and then... is it Louis? He's a mangey git, but--"_

_"It's not Louis, Harry. I can hold my own with Louis. It's... I'm just terrified of what this relationship could do to you."_

_"To me? Are you planning on leaving me and breaking my heart already, or... ?" he tried to keep the tone light, but she scared the shit out of him sometimes._

_"Harry," she sighed, somewhat annoyed, "I'm being serious. You're in a boy band. And I know it means the world to you. And I'm terrified I'll fuck that up for you. That you'll resent me forever. That I can't, I won't..."_

_"Shhh, Hellie, shhh," he pressed the pad of his thumb to her lips, held her eyes, took a deep, slow breath he hoped she'd mirror. "What, exactly, do you think is going to be fucked up by our relationship becoming public knowledge?"_

_"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a dick," she began, pulling away to pace, "And I'm not trying to sound like a dick. I'm just trying to... be pragmatic. To look out for you. And I..." she paused. Harry braced himself for something awful, "You are in a boyband, Harry. And that is as much about image as it is about music. I know that YOU care about the music -- god, it's one of the sexiest things about you -- and I'm not saying your fans don't care about the music, or that the world doesn't. I'm just saying... I know that success is a fragile thing. And that for you -- for One Direction -- part of that delicate balance is-- I don't even know how to word this properly, it's like... It's about your brand. The One Direction brand. And it's the same for all bands, for U2 or Coldplay or whoever. It was important to The Beatles and The Stones and..." she broke off, taking a deep breath. "And I'm nothing if not well versed in the importance of branding -- to your band, and to you, personally. I spend my life building and upholding brands._

_"Shit, Harry, I have a brand of my own, it's part of how I'm successful in what I do: understanding how to use my strengths and weaknesses to market myself to potential clients, potential employers, to the outside world. And I know that like... you're not in love with the brand the world is building you right now," she came back to him, pressing her hands against his chest. "I know -- I KNOW -- that you're not some soulless bad-boy out there notching bedposts and breaking hearts. But what does dating a thirty-year-old do to your brand? To One Direction's? I can't imagine it's good."_

_So many words had just poured out of her mouth. He almost didn't know where to start. For a second he closed his eyes to think, then suddenly, words of his own just started tumbling out._

_"First of all, you're not thirty. You're twenty-nine-- uh-uh, nope, let me finish, Hell," he silenced her attempt at interruption and barreled onward. It was his turn. "And second of all, I've dated women older than you before. All in the public eye. And guess what? The world didn't end. My career didn't come to some crashing halt._

_"Look, what I've learned in the last few years is that people are going to see me however they want to see me. I can't actually control my own brand very well. I can do my best to live my life in a way that's true to me, and hope that translates but... the press, the public, they're going to see -- and say -- what they want. And yeah, that fucking sucks. But fighting that is pointless. Fighting that only gives it power or the appearance of truth or... whatever. I gave up on fighting that image a long time ago. I live my life now. That's what I do. And the way I want to live my life, now, is with you beside me."_

_"But if... if pressure mounts. If people disapprove and all this bullshit noise starts building around us, I'm just so scared it could crush you, or harm your career, and how bad would that be for us?" She sounded smaller now, less like she was pitching to a boardroom, more like she was scared._

_"You said it yourself, Hell, it's bullshit noise. I don't care about it," frustrated, he took her face in his hands and fought the urge to shake her, to kiss her into silence, forced his eyes up to hers. "God, this is not a business conversation, Hellie, it's not-- I care about you, okay? That's what I care about. And I can't hide it forever. It just... doesn't work. That doesn't work. It's not possible."_

_"I don't want to care about it either," she faltered, breath catching, "But this is so new, Harry. I hardly even know what it is, where the edges are, what it feels like to look at you and think of you as my boyfriend, and not just the guy I'm fucking. And I know that's about me being... being me. Being fucked up about this shit and a thousand times better at casual than I am at anything real. And it's about me not knowing anything about being with someone like you, who has a whole public life. Coming here, seeing... Those girls outside Harry, I know how real this is for them. I was them, once, a very long time ago. And I just... I don't know. I don't know but I'm scared and I just want to take this slowly. Please, can we take this part slowly?"_

_By the time she fell silent, there were tears at the edge of her voice. Tears, and this forlorn, pleading lilt that made Harry's heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vice. Harry would have done damn near anything to stop her voice from sounding like that. To stop her feeling so scared of something he felt so confident in. Anything at all, probably._

_But she'd confessed something. Something real. Something about herself, and how she felt and what she wanted. And it wasn't about business or holding him at arm's length or hiding, really. It was about her heart. And that made him feel secure in giving in, in compromising with her for a little while longer._

_"Hell, Hellie, I..." he slid one hand away from her face, down to her back where he pressed his palm flat and pulled her against him. "We can take this slow. I need you to know how much I want to be honest about this, because... I need you to know. Because I am so bleeding happy, and so excited, that I want people to know. But I can hold on a little while. If you need a little while to feel more secure, more sure of us before we make this some big public thing, I can wait for you."_

_"I want, so badly, to be confident, Harry. And I am confident in how I feel about you, I am confident in how you feel about me. But I've fucked this up so many times, I just want to... I want some practice, first, you know? Without the entire world judging my every step."_

_"Then let's practice, yeah?" he replied, dipping down to close the space between their lips with a slow, reassuring kiss._

_Twenty minutes later, they were tangled up on the couch after a very thorough make-out session. Hellie was curled into his chest with her nose against his sternum as he traced tiny circles against the skin of her lower back, fingers slipped up beneath her tank top._

_"I have an idea," she said without moving, voice nearly lost in his t-shirt._

_"You have an idea?" he repeated, pushing back into the cushions to try and see her face._

_She looked up into his eyes before she began, "It's possibly very bad, but I think it might be a little genius."_

_"Oh god."_

_"No, hear me out!" Her eyes lit with mischief. He raised an eyebrow. "It might be the perfect compromise. You want to be able to tell the world you're happy. I need a little time out of the public eye. What if... what if you had a fake girlfriend for a while?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Seriously, Harry, think about it. If you had a fake girlfriend, you could say whatever you wanted. People would assume what you were saying was about her. It would take the heat off us, and it might even make it easier for me to be around you. If they just thought I was no one, some girl who worked for you, because they knew some other girl was your girlfriend..."_

_"I'm not lying to some innocent girl."_

_"She wouldn't have to be innocent! And you wouldn't have to lie. She could know. Like... what if she was, like, a model or something? Someone whose career would get a boost."_

_"This is really weird, Hellie."_

_"I know," she sighed. "I know. I just thought... if there was a decoy that would throw suspicion off us, it might give both of us what we wanted. It might buy me time, and allow you to be a little more free."_

_"It would also mean I had to pretend to date someone else. Be seen with her, be affectionate with her. That's... I don't want to do that with someone else. I want to do that with you. I don't want people to think you're my staff. I want them to know that you're smart and successful on your own, and that you chose me and I chose you and..."_

_"Okay. Okay, fine. I mean. You're right. It was silly anyway. I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be sorry," he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. "Just, you know, be with me."_

_"I am," she whispered, tilting her head back for a kiss that dissolved into another kiss that dissolved into another kiss that dissolved into the most gentle sex they'd had to date before they drifted off to sleep together, Harry's forehead pressed between her shoulder blades._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm Luca but you can call me Loose, because that's what some of the people I love most call me.
> 
> This is Things to Ruin and I love it and it terrifies me and sharing it is insane and yet, here we are. This is a thing that's happening.
> 
> At this point, I'm aiming for updates on a weekly basis, but I'll let you know how that goes. I've got the first seven chapters written and an outline set for the next handful, so at least for a little while, I should be able to stick to a schedule.
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed things so far. My beta readers have tried to assure me it's not totally horrible, so, I have some hope that you might. ;)
> 
> Oh. And as you may have guessed, all of this is pure bollocks. Or fiction. You know, whichever.
> 
> More soon.
> 
> xx  
> loose


	4. At Least The Hurt Is Proof of Life

 

* * *

 

_**...While Styles did not confirm which hospital his ex was in, or the extent of her injuries, his current girlfriend, actress Bekki Jones-Taylor was recently seen rushing into The Whittington Hospital. Given it's proximity to both Style's Hampstead Heath abode and McGovern's Islington home, this would seem to confirm her location...** _

*

Hellie's parents, Frank and Mary-Lou McGovern, arrived a bit earlier than expected, and the hubub of welcoming them felt so, so good. Were there a few painful moments he wished, desperately, to have his own mother there? Yeah. But it turned out getting back from Thailand, where she was on vacation with his step-dad, was slightly more complex than hopping a flight from JFK to LHR had been for Frank and Mary-Lou. And in fairness, Hellie was the one hurt. He was technically fine.

Regardless, it was a comfort to have Hellie's parents there. He could see it easing the tension in his children's shoulders a bit more, feel it loosen the vice-grip of terror on his heart. He wasn't alone with the kids anymore. Grammy and Poppy were here.

Not long after they arrived, the cute nurse re-appeared to inform Harry she could sneak him and bit of family back to ICU a few minutes early if they liked. Harry quietly rounded up the family, desperately trying to shake the sensation that Frank and Mary-Lou were giving him skeptical looks as the nurse grazed her hand over his lower back -- he hadn't been seeing their daughter in over a decade, and she'd broken his heart, and they'd always been like family, even after he and Hellie ended and... It was fine. He was being silly. He needed to get his head together.

But with each step he took toward the ICU, that became less and less possible. Something inside him began to change. Become less whole, or strong or capable, or... Suddenly, he wasn't sure he could go back in there. Could see her like that again.

At first, it had been damn near impossible to get him away from Hellie. In the back of the ambulance, unable to reach her hands, he'd clutched at the end of a long, orangey-red lock of hair that draped over the edge of the gurney. He was so desperate to have some kind of contact with her he barely noticed how much it hurt to clench his hand, or that her hair was lank and matted with blood. And that was for the best, all things considered. It was for the best that he could barely look at her as the paramedics rushed to stop the bleeding, keep her breathing, steady her vitals and just... do whatever awful things they had to do to keep Hellie's horribly motionless body alive.

In the hospital, he'd fought, nearly kicking and screaming, to stay by her side in A&E, but when his t-shirt had soaked through with blood over the ribs on his right-hand side, someone managed to convince him he needed medical attention. That his health mattered to Hellie, too. But then, once they'd given him another once-over and determined the bleeding was from a shallow cut, that his worst injuries were a handful broken ribs and bones in his fingers and hand, a few wounds with glass embedded in them that would require no more than a handful of stitches-- Then he'd pitched a fit of fairly remarkable proportions. He needed to be by Hellie's side.

The closest they could get him was a chair outside the operating room where he listened to a series of ever more horrible sounds. Machines beeping, doctors shouting, then not shouting, then raising their voices again. For a while, people rushed in and out of the room without even noticing him, and that seemed awful. But nothing prepared him for the sight of Hellie, wan and still and nearly drained of life in the ICU, nearly half her face swollen and looking like mince meat. He'd collapsed, then, face in the sheets beside her body, and sobbed like a child, letting it out of his system before his actual children arrived at the hospital and he had to be strong and brave and pulled back together.

Harry hadn't seen Hellie since then and he wasn't sure he could stand it now. The twins had their Grammy and Poppy with them, so they wouldn't be alone when they finally saw their mum, and Harry felt like his bones had turned to rubber. Like one more step and they'd cease to bear weight. One more step and he'd bend into a heap on the floor. He was failing, again, and he knew it. Failing his children, and failing his Hellie through them. But there were limits. He had reached one of his.

At the last moment, when he hesitated, then stopped completely, Mary-Lou took his hand in hers. In an attempt to stay upright he pressed his back to the wall and struggled to meet her eyes. With a gentle squeeze -- both sad and reassuring -- Mary-Lou released him and followed Cass through the sliding doors into the ICU.

That's when the first tear fell. Warm and solitary and borne of a combination of physical pain and emotional distress, it ran down his cheek and over his cupid's bow, coming to rest in the well between his lips. He tasted it, trying to breathe, trying to hold back the flood, but he knew even then it was useless, the effort. He could only clench so tight, only grasp things so closely, when so much of him was so broken.

To banish the horrible images flashing behind his eyelids, he tried to think of Hellie whole and healthy. He thought of her as she was when they'd met: twenty-nine and loud and bright, all potty-mouth and loud opinions, hands gesturing wildly when she spoke, smiling at him like there was always some amazing secret they shared, her touch making his skin feel like fire was eating at it from the inside out. Or Hellie at thirty-five, wearing a floaty white sun-dress and chasing the kids around his mum's backyard, laughing loudly at their antics, embracing his step-father beside the grill, sticking her tongue out at him over cake as the celebrated someone's something-or-other in the dwindling evening light. Then Hellie at her fortieth birthday, winking at him across a candlelit table full of her friends and family, wearing a dress that was cut like a knife, that chiseled her soft curves into weapons, her hair lit with shimmery silver strands, improbably more complex as she aged, just like the rest of her.

They had managed something special, he and Hellie. They had loved each other fiercely and broken each other completely, in ways that seemed impossible to repair, and then, they had repaired it. They had rallied. They had built a life in London where they were apart and together. Where they parented Cass and Ollie as one unit, but lived and loved outside that unit too. And he was not capable of imagining a world where that was gone. Even the thought, even touching the edges of the thought, made him suck in huge gasps of breath that made him ache like his whole self would fall apart if he didn't stop.

"Haz," he heard Liam's voice before he felt ready to open his eyes. "That nurse said you maybe needed to, eh..."

"I'm okay, Liam, I'm--" he looked up then, watching as Liam's gaze break open before, with surprising gentleness, his friend pulled him into a fierce (much needed) hug.

*

_Harry was exhausted. The kind of feeling that had seeped into his bones, that made his limbs feel heavy and his eyelids slow. He was ready to go home, but that would require standing up, and frankly, even that was going to take more energy than he was ready to muster._

\-- So knackered I can't even move. Think you could come round to pick me up? _he texted Hellie._

\-- BRB. Let me just quit my job and hop a flight to LA. _Hellie fired back._

\-- Miss you.

\-- Miss you more.

_A few moments of silence, then his phone pinged again._

\-- Any idea when you're back in New York?

_Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't have an answer yet. As much as he wanted to have something to give Hellie, things kept popping up on their schedule, and having to push the date back on her again (he'd already done it three times) was something he was loath to do. He hated seeing the way her eyes fell when he delivered the news over Skype, or Facetime. Ugh. Skype and Facetime, they were the worst combination of glorious and gut-wrenching, making Hellie seem so close, and yet, ever farther way._

_After a week together in Sydney and Melbourne, he'd gotten used to having regular access to Hellie. To feeling her skin under his fingertips every day. To feeling her breath against his lips in the instant before he kissed her. It was harder than he expected to be separated from her again, and it had only been three weeks since he'd seen her last. Already, months and months before he should even be thinking about it, Harry dreaded going on the road again._

_"You look like a lost puppy," said a feminine voice he didn't recognize._

_At the sound, Harry forced his eyes open again, to find one of those Karda -- no, this one was a Jenner. He'd met her in passing at the X Factor studio before the show. Kylie? Kendall? One of them. The older one._

_"Shouldn't you be out there enjoying the party?" she sing-songed, before dropping down into an empty seat, immediately leaning into his space, eyes shining._

_"'Fraid I'm a bit tired for that just now," he replied, fighting the urge to yawn in her face._

_"That's a shame, you're the hottest guy here, you shouldn't be hiding in a corner like this."_

_The smile she'd pasted on her face was... transparent. The way she gave his leg a little teasing shove, but somehow forgot to take her hand off his thigh afterward-- that was pretty transparent, too. He swallowed a frustrated sigh. This could rebound on him so badly if he wasn't careful, didn't play nice enough._

"I have a girlfriend!" _he wanted to shout at her, but that was a thing he still wasn't allowed to say. And to be fair to Hellie, well... the hungry look in this girl's eye told him that might not matter terribly anyway. "That's... very kind of you..."_

_"Kendall, I'm Kendall," her smile didn't falter, and her voice dripped with innuendo, "I know it's easy to confuse me with my sister. But I promise, Harry, I'm a lot more fun than she is."_

_"Kendall, not to sound like a total arse, but I'm... there's another girl on my mind at the moment," he couldn't help himself._

_Kendall melted, instantly. All her confidence bleeding out with the slump of her back. Her hair fell around her face, hiding it from view, and for a moment, Harry felt utterly terrible._

_"Of course," she replied, finally looking up. All of that sexy bravura, that kitten's purr curling up in her voice, it was gone. "I should have known that look on your face before."_

_"Should have known...?" he prompted, not following her._

_"Even with your eyes closed. It was like you were miles away. I see that in the mirror all the time. It's the 'missing-someone' face."_

_Harry quirked an eyebrow. This was... not what he'd expected._

_"Girlfriend?" she asked._

_"No, she's someone I... someone I wish was my girlfriend," he offered, lying more easily than he'd thought possible, given his exhausted state, given that the words seemed to dig into his throat like fish-hooks, barbed and fighting to stay inside of him. "Who do you miss?"_

_"Ex-Boyfriend. We haven't been broken up long, but it feels like forever," she sighed. "Every day feels like forever... My parents hated him, so it just... it's never going to work. But most days, I spend my time wishing it could."_

_"Do you think he'd take you back? Is it just your family that's stopping you?" Harry wasn't sure why he was asking._

_Maybe he was fascinated by the idea of anyone being able to resist their feelings, wall them up or box them away, push them under a carpet and just walk on. It was a skill he'd never quite mastered, no matter what some of his ex-girlfriends might think they had to say on the subject. Everything just always felt so big to him, when it happened. Like he'd never get his arms around it, let alone crush it down or push past it._

_Or maybe... Maybe..._

_"It's just really hard. My family is... a part of every single thing I do. It's hard to get anything past them, and believe me, I've tried."_

_"Do you think he'd take you back?" he asked again, an idea gelling in his mind._

_"If the last fifteen text messages he sent mean anything, yeah, I think he would. I think that's why every day feels like such a... a fight."_

_"Kendall, I have a proposition for you."_

_"Harry, I don't think I'm really in the mood anymore," she laughed lightly, her voice beginning to sound tired, too. Missing someone could make you tired._

_"No, no, I-- This is not about sex. Or whatever you thought I was suggesting. This is about, well... You've got a boyfriend your family can't stand. And I'm in love with a girl who's terrified of the spotlight. What if I told you I had an idea that might solve both of our relationship problems?"_

_"I'd say I'm listening."_

*

"Harry! Edward! Styles! Did you listen to any of my voicemails?!"

He turned, a little slowly, a little painfully, halting his progress toward the ICU. He knew that voice. He just... wasn't expecting to hear it, here, at the hospital so soon. Or ever.

"I..." his response was cut off as Bekki barreled into him, knocking the air out of his lungs and causing significant pain to both his broken ribs, and the broken fingers that she'd mashed between their bodies in her hug. "Fuck, ow!" he exclaimed, collapsing backward and falling into a seat. "Bekki, I'm... fuck, please let go, I can't..."

"OH GOD. Did I hurt you? What's wrong? I'm so so sorry, baby boy, oh my god, I'm sorry!"

"I just have a lot of broken bones. Ribs and fingers. You have to be gentle with me right now," he said. And it was true. For so many reasons.

"You should have told me," she replied, voice finally hushed, eyes downcast. "You should have told me. I'm your girlfriend, I should have known everything the minute you were safe."

"Harry, I..." Louis interjected, then trailed off. He looked up, thankful to have anywhere else to focus his attention. "I think you might want to take this somewhere more private."

"You're right, Lou, ehm..." he cast his eyes about. The best he could do was a far away corner of the waiting room. They'd have to be quiet. "Can you just keep people clear of that corner?" he asked, gesturing.

"Sure thing, mate."

"Come on, Bekki, we should do this over there. Let's just... keep our voices down."

"Ehm, okay," she replied, skeptically, as she followed him. Then she whispered, "I don't know what there is to say that anyone else can't hear, but, okay."

"Bekki, my ex-wife is unconscious, her face torn open, her bones broken, her vitals only just now steadying. I have two teenage children trying to cope with the fear of losing their mum, trying to have hope, trying to keep blinking and breathing and putting one fucking foot in front of the other. And none of that is the business of the general public, but because I'm in a band, somehow, the world thinks they deserve an inside view of our fear and grief and... I will not allow that. So yes, there are things I'm saying that no one else can hear. Because how do I know any number of those people won't sell the information?"

"Okay," she whispered, eyes downcast again.

"I am sorry that I didn't call you. And that you worried. But as I just mentioned, things have been a bit... mad. My top concern wasn't actually myself. And I'm sorry to say it wasn't you, either. But I am not sorry that it was my children. You know how much I love them, and--"

"I know, Hazza, baby, I know," she cut him off. "I wish you'd let me meet them, but..."

Panic raced into his chest. The kids were... he looked about the waiting area quickly. Were still with their grandparents and mum in ICU. Thank god. He was not ready to deal with Bekki and his kids yet. Or ever. But especially not at this exact moment.

"Bekki, I... You know my reasons for keeping that part of my life separate. We've barely been..." he rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. "We haven't been seeing each other very long, and I know-- Or... I think you maybe have gotten the wrong idea about my feelings for you. I-- Bekki, please don't cry. I'm not trying to hurt you. We had some great times together, but I wasn't ready for things to get serious yet. And now..."

"Please, don't..." she choked out, valiantly fighting tears.

"No, Bekki, you have to hear this. I want you to know it's nothing to do with you. I have two children who are in absolute bits right now. And I can't afford to focus my energy anywhere else. I don't know what's going to happen to Hellie, but I have to be there, no matter what. Because none of this is going to be easy for them, even if their mum wakes up happy and on-the-mend five minutes from now. They're at such a fragile age right now, and I cannot afford to screw this up. I've already screwed up too many things with them."

"Don't say that, Hazza. Baby, you haven't screwed anything up with your children. I know that. The world knows that. Everyone thinks your kids are great."

"No one knows my kids, Bekki. And I'd like to keep it that way until they're old enough to make healthy, informed, moderately adult decisions about what they want," he was snappy, running out of patience and getting off topic. He just needed to make sure she understood they were over and get her out of there.

"I can wait, Hazza. I understand why you have to be with your family now. I can..."

"Bekki, you didn't get a phone call from me for half a day and you rushed to the hospital, which, by the way, I don't even know how you found, and I don't want to know, and if you brought more paps with you, I'm--" he cut himself off. This was not helping.

"I thought you were dead! Or nearly dead! And I was already on my way here to check and see if this was the place when I heard the statement on the news that you were actually fine, but, I... I can do it, baby. I can be calm and give you space until your ex and the kids are better, and..."

"Bekki, I don't know if we'll ever be better. If I lose my Hellie--" his chest caught and tears sprung to his eyes. "Oh god, this is not the time. Bekki. It's just... this has thrown a lot of things in my life into rather harsh contrast. I'm not in the place for a relationship right now. Period. And I'm sorry that things are turning out this way, I never meant... And I had no way of knowing, but... I cannot do this Bekki. Not now. Not later. Just... Not anymore."

Bekki's whole posture pulled in on itself. He could tell she was crying by the way her shoulders occasionally jerked upward, but otherwise she remained silent. Harry felt awful. Awful times a thousand. His body hurt, his heart hurt, his soul hurt, and now he was feeling a new kind of guilt on top of all that pain.

"I'm sorry Bekki, truly, I am."

"I am too, Haz. I really thought we..." she caught herself up, closing her eyes and pressing a hand to her chest. She sat up straight before she opened her eyes. "I'm sorry about Hellie, and I'll keep you all in my prayers. But I should... I'll leave you to your family."

"Thank you, Bekki. Good... good luck."

For a few minutes everyone stood stock-still and remained utterly silent. The sound of Bekki's high-heeled boots was like thunder as she left the room, steps heavy. He had to stop looking. He had to focus on taking good, careful, solid breaths.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but... 'good luck'? Good luck?! That was COLD, Harry!" Niall said, then busted into laughter.

Somehow, despite the awful thing that had just happened. All the awful things that were still happening, all around him, he laughed. Everyone laughed. It hurt his ribs when he got going, and at one point he started to wonder if he'd cracked. If he'd ever be able to stop. But at the end of it, Niall sat beside him, a warm hand on his shoulder, and when he was finally able to breathe calmly again, something felt better inside him.

He was ready to see Hellie again.

"I think I need to..." he began, but no one needed him to finish the sentence.

That was the thing about these men. They were more than bandmates. More than friends. They were family. Extensions of his being. And sometimes he wanted to kill some of them. Sometimes they wanted to kill him, too, he was sure. But they were, as Hellie would say, ride or die. His ride or die bitches. And in times like this, having them there was immensely comforting. Somehow, when the chips were down, they always just understood.

"Go," Louis said softly. "We'll hang here with the kids."

He saw them then, coming back up the hall with their grandparents, heads down, feet shuffly. His heart jolted with a twist of pain like he'd never felt before, but everyone's eyes, Frank and Mary-Lou's especially, told him to go to the ICU. Told him they would take care of the kids. Told him to do what he needed to do to come back to them in a better place. That that was something his children needed from him, too.

And so he walked. Visiting hours were nearly over, but he knew --- and hated, and knew he'd do it anyway if he needed to -- that he could find the cute nurse, probably at the end of her shift, and flirt his way inside if need be. It wouldn't be much. He wouldn't need much. Just enough time to yell at Hellie, and apologize, and scold her some more. Because she couldn't. Could. Not. Leave him alone with these children for even a moment longer. The charade had to end. She just had to wake up.

Fortunately, no one held him up. He disinfected and grabbed a face mask and step by step he made his way to Hellie's bed.

She looked... Horrifyingly still. Like a corpse. The only thing moving was her chest, and even that rose and fell with a sort of absent efficiency-- there was no life in her breath. Hellie had always had such spirit, this was like... looking at someone else. This was not the woman who'd screamed her face off through fourteen hours of labor, cursing like a sailor as he tried not to laugh. Not the woman who, in year after year of charity football matches, loudly trash-talked his entire team, once provoking Ashton Irwin to try and throw a punch. Not the woman who'd started a paint fight with their children while repainting the living room this past summer.

"Hellie," he choked, sitting on the bed beside her and leaning forward to brush at the hair around the less-wounded side of her face. "Helen Anne, I... I am so, so sorry." Before he realized he was crying again, a tear splashed down onto the back of his hand where it rested over hers. He took a shuddering breath. "This is all my fault, and I can't, I don't know what to do. I can't fix this. I fucked up so bad I can't fix it. And you have to be okay. You have to wake up. Because I can't do this without you. Cass and Ollie and me, Hellie, we don't work without you. Just please..."

He needed to get a hold of himself. To regain control. He clutched at her hand, squeezing his broken fingers and biting down on the pain, using it to focus.

"I'm crying in public again, so please, just open those beautiful eyes of yours and laugh at me right now, okay?"

For a moment, there was silence. Or relative silence. Everything, everywhere in the ICU beeped.

But then. Then. Just when he was starting to believe Hellie might wake up. That her eyes might flutter open for him, the beeping from a machine beside her accelerated, and immediately, in his soul, he knew what that meant. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong again.

He was shoved out of the way by a gaggle of medical professionals before he even had half a second to ask what was going on. Without instruction he backed slowly down the hall, totally incapable of looking away, trusting the nurse who was gently gripping his elbow to keep him safe. Because trust was all he had right now. Everyone here, this whole hospital, they had to save Hellie. That was all there was.

Some time later -- he couldn't be entirely sure how long he'd sat there, hugging Cass to his chest while Ollie paced in loops between his bandmates and in-laws -- the flirty nurse would return, too serious to be affectionate, and introduce them to one of Hellie's doctors. He'd let them know that Hellie's brain had begun to swell. That there'd been a procedure, a small hole drilled into her skull like it was a a fucking wall, to help reduce the swelling before it could cause long-term damage. Things were... hardly out of the woods, just yet, but the doctors had hope. The doctors had hope and he had to have faith. Enough faith for everyone in that room.

"Helen is resting," flirty nurse said, hands clasped in front of her. "You all should go home and rest, too. Come back in the morning, tomorrow is a new day."

Tomorrow is a new day. Had that ever made anyone, anywhere, in the history of the universe feel any better? And would it matter of Hellie wasn't there to see it?

Discussion sprung to life around him, logistics being sorted as he tried to clear the fog. Again he was acutely thankful for these men.

His sister Gemma was on her way down to his place in Hampstead, and Louis was going to meet her there with keys. Zayn would drive him, the kids and Hellie's parents back to her place. Or, no, that was too many people. They'd have to split up.

"It's no worries, guys. The kids have their grandparents, you can take them home, Zayn. I'll ride with Louis again, meet up with Gemma. I need to change out of these clothes and I don't want any attention on the kids anyway. Well go out the front to distract the paps, lead them away from Hellie's place," he said, distractedly, as if reciting something he'd memorized a lifetime ago.

"Daddy, no!" Cass practically wailed, throwing herself at his side with absolutely zero regard for his broken ribs. Once again, the pain focused him.

"Cass, monkey, you've got your Grammy and Poppy. I've got to distract the--"

"Daddy, I don't care about the press, okay? Just please. Don't go home without us. Please don't leave us," she was crying in earnest now, the sound pressing down on his chest like an anvil.

"Yeah, Dad, don't be stupid. It's just a few cameras. Cass and I can handle it," insisted Ollie, ever strong, ever defending Cass.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I just don't want to be in Mommy's house alone," she replied.

"But your grandparents would--"

"Come on, Dad, that's not the same," said Ollie, dry as ever.

"I--" he looked up, catching Frank's eye over Cass' head and receiving a solemn nod.

This wasn't his choice. It wasn't anyone's choice. But it was life. This was the life he'd borne them into. His children had faced the press before, and they would face the press again. This was their reality now, whether he liked it or not. Just like Hellie's swelling brain and mangled body, just like his ruined heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while I've whipped this whole story up myself, I do want to know there's one thing I haven't made up: the chapter titles. Those are lyrics from an album also entitled "Things to Ruin."
> 
> That album is by a composer named Joe Iconis. It did not inspire this story, or it's title (you'll see where the title came from later). And in that light, I know it's kind of weird, but... I like Joe, and I loved the idea of this little synergy -- lyrics from his album ushering my story along into your lives.
> 
> Anyway. He gets credit for all the chapter titles. And my betas get credit for making sure this isn't the most horrible, senseless, grammatically incorrect thing ever written. And I get credit for any and all remaining fuck-ups.
> 
> xx  
> loose.


	5. We've Gotten to the Part Where the Words Don't Work So Hot

* * *

 

_**In the wake of Styles' first public statement, an air of mystery continues to swirl about the accident. No one seems to know who was driving, or whether or not there were substances involved in the crash. And what was Styles doing in a car with McGovern at 3am to begin with? The pair have been split up for over a decade, and while their relationship has always seemed amiable, they've never hinted that any sort of reconciliation was in the cards. In fact, Styles was known to be dating British ingénue Bekki Jones-Taylor and McGovern had been quietly involved in a on-and-off relationship with barrister Craig Deacon for nearly a decade.** _

*

Sleep was a fickle mistress at the best of times, and tonight, in the worst of times, she'd left him alone in bed hours ago. So, while the rest of London was sleeping -- or at least the rest of this house -- he sat at the island in Hellie's kitchen, torturing himself with internet gossip. The room was illuminated by barely more than the glow of his laptop screen and the relative darkness was welcome, even if sleep was distant. Light had become painful since the accident, like the world shouldn't be so bright when Hellie's life looked so dark, so distant.

The internet was already ablaze with speculation about what had happened in Hellie's car that night and all of it made his stomach feel sour. Why was any of this anyone's business? Hellie had never asked for a public life, and she'd never taken much of a starring role in his public life, either. And yet, knowing Harry was safe and sound hadn't done a thing to dampen the attention on the accident. People appeared to remain fascinated.

In so far as he could tell, there were several prevailing theories on the mystery. The people he hated the most in this were the ones saying it was Hellie's fault. That she'd been drink driving -- as if Harry would let her -- or that she'd been the one stranded, totally pissed, calling Harry for help. That without her, Harry would never have been involved. Which couldn't be further from reality. And yet. There was just enough truth in it to smack of sense. Which was always how it was with rumors. Just enough real to seem reasonable.

*

_"Oh, oh, this one here says you're already fucking someone behind Kendall's back!" Hellie laughed, gesturing to her phone._

_They were laying in her bed, catching up on the world as it had been while they where asleep, Harry on his phone and Hellie on her iPad. He'd thought they were being semi-responsible adults -- after all, one could only be considered so responsible while playing hooky -- dealing with emails, checking their calendars, etc. But that had lasted all of five minutes before Hellie burst his bubble, reading him all the gossip he could stand (and more)about his 'relationship' with Kendall._

_"Not at this very moment, I'm not," he replied lightly, putting his phone down and flipping onto his side to pluck the iPad from Hellie's hands in one deft motion. "But I'm about to be," he purred into the sweet spot on her neck, just below where her jaw curved upward toward her ear._

_Hellie shivered against him as he made quick work of pulling her arms up above her head and pinning them against the bed while he parted her legs with his knee. She was wearing a thin black nightdress and no panties -- those had been lost almost the minute he'd gotten through Hellie's door after his 'date' with Kendall. He'd eaten her out right in the front hall, nightdress rucked up to her waist, back arching in pleasure as she wound her fingers in his hair, urged him on, begged for release. When Hellie could stand again, they'd wasted no time in getting back down to business, and they'd fucked their way across the apartment -- against the wall, in the kitchen, on the stairs up to the loft, and again in bed, Hellie on top riding him harder than he'd even imagined possible. That orgasm had been fantastic, tearing up and down his nerve endings like lightning, like it was going to melt his insides into something other than Harry. Into something that was at least part Hellie, a whole new whole._

_They'd lost too many nights together with the end of his tour and the weeks in LA. There was a lot to be made up for. But the sex, oh, that was the first thing. And not just because it was good. But because honestly, if he didn't at least try to get this out of his system -- this need for her that had been coiling up inside every muscle and vein and synapse for weeks -- he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to concentrate on anything else. There was this addictive feeling in the moment he came inside her that he'd never found anywhere else -- dangerous and safe all at once, like diving off a blind precipice only to find himself drifting home. But it was the moments after that, when she took care of him -- delicately cleaning them up, brushing her fingers through his hair, pressing soft kisses to his skin -- when he knew he'd never want find it anywhere again._

_But that was a secret he'd hold onto a little while longer. His done-ness, his decision to be with her always, his love. He felt it, a certainty inside his chest, just like his heartbeat, his breathing. But he wanted Hellie to have time, too. To come to terms with her feelings. With the things he saw in her eyes as she gazed up at him now, giggling as he trailed the fingertips of his right hand lightly down the underside of her raised arm, over her shoulder, into her neck. She'd get there soon, he thought. Every minute by his side brought her closer. And he could wait._

_"You know, I kind of like this rumor mill," he teased, lips hovering just above hers, before he dove down for a hungry kiss._

_"I'd kind of like to have you inside me right now," she whispered as his lips trailed down the other side of her neck._

_"Now, now, Helen, patience is a virtue," he spoke into the curve of her shoulder before baring his teeth against the edge of her clavicle and scraping down it's length._

_"And torture is a crime," her words were coming breathier now, her hips beginning to roll against his thigh._

_"Not in my books, it's not," he replied, dipping his tongue into the well of her neck, pulling his leg away from her. She whimpered. "But it is a pretty good way to start my Tuesday morning."_

*

At the sound of the kitchen door, he shook himself alert, away from the memory, only to see Frank pause just across the island from him. Awkward.

"'Lo," he'd been silent so long his voice sounded heavy, "What're you doing awake?"

"I could ask the same of you," Frank replied with a soft, sad smile. "Mary-Lou is tossing and turning a lot, and I just can't get back to sleep."

"I understand," he replied. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't have anyone toss-- oh god, I was alone. I'm alone," panic rose in his voice, his chest.

Frank pulled a stool up to the island kitty-corner from him and pushed the laptop closed. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, the only light now the filmy gray beginnings of dawn filtering in the kitchen window. Frank waited in silence, protective hand resting on his forearm, as if sensing there was something more he needed to think through, to say.

"I don't know if I can do this, Mr. McG-- Frank. I'm so scared, I... In thirteen years, I've never parented solo."

"That's not true, Harrry. You've had the kids without Hellie for weekends and things. You've taken the kids on trips alone, and been with them while Hellie was away..."

"That's the thing, though, Frank. Hellie was never really gone. Not like this. She was always a phonecall away, for anything, for everything. And now -- I don't... I couldn't talk to her even if I needed to and I don't know if I can do this alone," he cut off, swallowing hard around the hysterical lump rising in his throat.

Hellie's father's eyes shone, "You're not really alone, though, Harry. You have us. And your friends, your family. That hospital was full of people here to help you yesterday, son. And Hellie is going to pull through this. I can feel that in my heart. The doctors are going to get the swelling in her brain down and she's going to be smiling up at us again very soon."

"I keep trying not to think about it any other way. But all these awful things just creep back in. I've had Hellie with me, in one way or another, for nearly... god, for nearly a third of my life. And I know no one really understands our relationship anymore. But I just never, ever thought about life without her right there. Even in the darkest days after she-- after we broke up. She was inevitable."

"It's not really any of our business, understanding what's going on between the two of you. You've built the relationship you needed to raise two beautiful, smart, well-adjusted kids. And that's all I've ever cared about, those kids sleeping upstairs," Frank paused, thinking, "But even without those kids, we'd still be there for _you_ in this. Whatever this turns out to be, Harry, you won't face it alone."

He remained silent, looking at his fingers, trying not to cry again. Trying to find words for the moment, for his feelings, for stopping the crushing weight of silence and the horrible entropy of his thoughts. Instead he swallowed around the rising lump in his throat and croaked a 'thank you,' in Frank's direction.

Frank stood, clasping a hand on his shoulder affectionately, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. He clenched his teeth to keep a dry sob inside.

"Get some sleep, Harry. Mary-Lou and I will take care of breakfast. You just get some more sleep, okay?"

He nodded, eyes still on the island, while he listened to Frank rummage in the fridge for a second. When he felt capable of standing, he did, shuffling exhaustedly from the kitchen and trudging the stairs up to Hellie's second floor bedroom.

There, he found Cass curled up in the bed and his heart dropped out of his chest to the floor. She was clutching her mother's duvet to her face, shoulders shaking just slighty.

"Hey monkey," he said softly, leaning on the bed and placing a gentle hand on her arm.

Cass rolled over to face him, eyes streaming with tears. "It smells like her, Daddy, in the hospital it smells like sick people, not like Mommy. In here it smells like her."

"I know, baby, I know," he said pulling her into his arms. With some careful readjustment, he laid them down on the bed, Cass curled into his chest as she cried. "Let it out, monkey. Just let it out, I'm here," he soothed, transitioning to soft, inarticulate whispers when he could no longer form words. When all that was left for him, too, was tears.

Together, Cass crying openly while he joined her in silence, they let it go again. Let it go until they both drifted back to sleep.

*

_**Styles and McGovern were first spotted together a few weeks after his 20th birthday, hot on the heels of his breakup with model Kendall Jenner. Their relationship ignited several scandals, initially because of its proximity to Styles' much publicized relationship with Jenner, and the rather large age gap between McGovern and Styles, then later with their sudden pregnancy.** _

_**As with many of Styles' relationships, things began hot and heavy, but fizzled quickly. While his relationship with McGovern is till the longest he's maintained in public to date, it lasted less than two years -- not a terribly long time considering they had children together.** _

_**Though Harry often spoke very lovingly of Helen while they were together, he only did so very generally, never offering much detail on their relationship.** _

_**"We're stealing a page from the book of Bey and Jay," he'd once joked to the Daily Mail, referring to Beyonce Knowles and Jay-Z's famously tight-lipped approach to their relationship and marriage. "Hellie isn't much for the spotlight, and I think what we have is too precious to sort of... overexpose, yeah?"** _

_**It's that sense of mystery which continues to surround the former couple as time passes after their accident. Styles' injuries are obviously minor compared to McGovern's, who remains in critical condition at a London Hospital not far from her and Styles' respective homes. Early speculation based on what we know of their injuries claimed that McGovern had been in the passenger seat, but newer reports on police scanner activity suggest that McGovern was the driver.** _

_**After his formal statement, Styles has maintained silence on the issue. His only public comments have been about the preserving the privacy of their two children, thirteen-year-old twins Cass and Oliver Styles.** _

*  
  
 _ **Styles and family -- both his, and McGovern's -- were seen entering and exiting The Whittington Hospital around visiting hours today. Hellie's mother, Mary-Lou, and Harry's mother, Anne, were shielding the children from cameras, while the men, including Frank McGovern, Robin Twist and Des Styles were trying to keep a clear path for them. Harry himself blazed ahead with bandmate and best friend Louis Tomlinson and sister Gemma by his side, begging paparazzi to keep the cameras on him and away from his children.**_

_**As you can see in this footage, Styles looks pretty worn. While his injuries appear to be minor -- lots of cuts and bruises, several broken fingers on his left hand -- walking looks like it's a chore and the bags under his eyes are prominent.** _

_**Aside from Styles' pleas to keep the cameras away from his children, not much was said. The family appears to be presenting a pretty united front as they weather this difficult time.** _

*

The dining table, though crammed end to end with loved ones, was a dire place that evening. Hellie had been unconscious through visiting hours that day, and though doctors and nurses and everyone who even walked past them in the ICU assured them that Hellie was stable, and improving, that the swelling in her brain was down and she'd likely weathered the worst... it was becoming more and more difficult to hold onto hope. Everyone just needed to see her eyes. Just needed them to blink open, to focus, to be there with them for even just a second or two.

He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the chatter around the table to sound less... leaden, before he opened them again to look out across the room. He could remember a time in this house before this dining table existed, when the dining area was more of a toddler area, somewhere Hellie could see and hear the kids while she cooked, or cleaned, or hid in the back garden for a few minutes to escape the noise and call him to let him know about some crazy thing or another the twins had gotten into that day. He remembered Hellie saying it felt like her life existed between the office and this kitchen. She was either at work, dealing with demanding clients, or here in this kitchen, dealing with the most demanding clients of all. He'd spent a lot of time here, too. On the floor behind the toddler gates, messing about. Or in the kitchen mucking through meal prep or cleaning up after one while Hellie played with the kids.

Eventually, though, his babies had started to grow up. Were old enough to be out of Hellie's sight for a few minutes at a time. Or hours at a time. The dining table appeared, big and heavy and ready for a thousand mandatory family dinners -- Hellie was big on those -- and even more leisurely meals and snacks and late-night chats with friends over too much whisky and wine. There was a burn mark in the table just to his left from that time he and Hellie and some mates had decided sneaking a few joints while the kids slept upstairs was a fantastic idea. She'd gotten the giggles -- it had been some good shit -- and dropped the second joint as she attempted to pass it. They'd laughed so hard it nearly woke the kids and by the time someone gathered themselves enough to pick up the joint, there was a long-ish, narrow burn mark in the table. He ran a finger over it, savoring the memory. Such a good one. Even if they had been behaving sort of badly at the time.

That had always been one of his favorite things about Hellie. Her willingness to behave a little badly. He'd met her when she was already well into her adulthood, established in her career and life, and yet... there'd been this spark about her. This mischief. Like she lived life with one eyebrow raised -- metaphorically, of course, she couldn't physically raise an eyebrow for shit -- forever contemplating how she could get into trouble without actually getting into trouble. Without actually fucking anything up for real.

Of course, eventually, they'd both fucked a lot of shit up for real. Including each other. And here they were. Nearly thirteen years later, the whole lot of them around this table without Hellie. Because he'd fucked shit up again.

And there they were, his and Hellie's best fuck-up, their babies, thirteen now, too, wedged between their grandparents and aunts and uncles, looking so much worse for the wear of the last few days that it was difficult to look at them without crying. Ollie was dragging a fork through his mushy peas lazily, just staring at his plate. Cass was slumped low on the bench with her back against the wall, hands in her lap, and though he could not see them, he knew his daughter well enough to know she was knotting and un-knotting and re-knotting them in the edge of her t-shirt, trying to ease her anxiety.

"Do you lot want to hear a good story?" he asked, suddenly. They looked like they were in need of a good story.

"Good like the last one where Uncle Louis was mean to Mommy," Ollie began, ignoring Louis' yelp, "and then she talked you into pretending to date someone else?"

"Don't roll those eyes at me, young man, those were great stories! Any story with your mum is a great story!"

"Sure, Dad. They were great. Not weird at all," Ollie replied, keeping his eyes perfectly level with some obvious struggle.

"What if I promised this one was actually really, really good? One of my favorite memories of your mum ever?" he asked.

"Tell us, Haz," Gemma said softly, reaching down to grab Cass' hand.

"I think everyone could use a happy story right now," Frank agreed.

"Me too," he replied, smiling, "Me too... Right, then... It had been a few months since Kendall and I had started our..."

"Daddy," Cass groaned.

"Monkey," he groaned in return. "Just give me a minute, yeah? I promise I'll get to the good stuff."

*

_"Harry," Hellie groaned, giving him a none-too-gentle shove._

_"Hellie," he replied, voice thick with sleep, tightening his arm about her hips._

_"I can't believe you let me fall back to sleep," this was a whine._

_"Mmmm, sleep's good," he murmured as he buried his face in her stomach._

_They'd been sitting on the couch after breakfast, watching some terrible chat show or another, taking advantage of Hellie's day off, when he decided he wanted nothing more than to lie there in her arms all day. With a little struggle, she'd acquiesced to his request, promising they could lie about for a little while longer before she dragged him out of the house on some adventure or another. Sliding down the couch and using her belly as a pillow, Harry had gotten so comfortable he'd fallen with Hellie running her fingers through his hair over and over and over. Apparently at some point, Hellie had fallen asleep, too._

_"Harry, we were supposed to go to that Parisian photography exhibit at The Met today."_

_"It'll be there tomorrow, Hell. Let's just lie about and do nothing today. I missed you yesterday," he pulled her palm to his mouth and placed a slightly wet kiss there._

_Hellie had been in a friend's wedding the evening previous. Their relationship still being largely a secret -- only the lads and one or two of her friends even knew -- Hellie hadn't been invited with a guest. Harry was sure she wouldn't have taken him, anyway. Too many questions for them to answer at a wedding reception. Too much risk of being found out. He was feeling sort of petulant and annoyed about it, actually. The game of secrets was wearing thin, and he was tired of not just being with her, everywhere, all the time._

_"But I won't be here tomorrow. I'll be at work."_

_"Take another day off," he replied, simply, kissing her wrist._

_"You know I can't, Harry. I've got deadlines."_

_"I know," he murmured against her forearm, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her perfume before nipping at her skin affectionately_

_"Hey," she yelped, pulling upright and jostling Harry out of his comfortable position._

_"Don't even act like you don't love that," he intoned, crawling up her body to punctuate his statement with a kiss._

_"I love lots of things," she replied against his lips and he jerked back, catching her eye. Hellie froze for only half a second before she continued, rolling her eyes at him, "that doesn't mean I love them all the time. For example, I love this couch, and lying on it with you all day. But today, I wanted to go out and do something with you."_

_"Isn't that a bit risky, darling?" he asked sarcastically. He couldn't give a fuck. He'd have to warn Kendall, but he couldn't give a fuck anymore._

_"No one would be expecting you at the Met," she replied, totally ignoring his tone._

_"No one expects me anywhere, doesn't mean they don't recognize me, Hell," he sank back onto his knees, straddling Hellie's lap and staring down her silence. "You know, I have an easy solution for this problem."_

_"Don't, Harry. Not yet. Let's just... let's pretend, for one day more, that no one else exists, okay? Just you and me," she leaned forward clutching his face and pressing her forehead to his._

_"I could do that every day for the rest of my life, Hell," Harry closed the space between them with a kiss._

_"Okay. So. If we're staying in... I vote for building a pillow fort and watching Beauty and the Beast."_

_"Beauty and the Beast?"_

_"Yes. Beauty and the Beast. My second favorite Disney movie."_

_"Your first favorite being?"_

_"The Little Mermaid, obviously," she looked at him like he'd just asked her the stupidest question ever. "I'm not sure if you've noticed this, but I've got red hair. So it's like, my genetic responsibility to love Ariel above all others."_

_"I thought your genetic responsibility was to procreate with Kenneth Branagh and keep the redheads alive?"_

_"Well, that, too," she smiled, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it handily._

_"Alright. So why Beauty and the Beast and not The Little Mermaid?"_

_"Because I have Beauty and the Beast on Blu-ray right here in this apartment. And because who doesn't love a movie where the prince gives the girl a library?" Hellie held her hand out to him so he could haul her up off the couch._

_"You, my darling, are an enormous nerd."_

_"That's true. But you're the one who keeps chasing me about, so I'm thinking you find that at least a little hot."_

_"Oh, it's amazingly hot," he replied, pulling her hips against him and pressing his hands into her lower back._

_Hellie arched her back just enough to lock her eyes on his, "Maybe later I'll tell you all about what I'd like to do to you in a library someday," she purred._

_"Maybe I'll buy you a library just so we can make those dreams a reality," he countered, rasping the words against her ear._

_"Buy me a library, Mr. Styles, and I'm all yours," she winked, then pulled away after a happy peck on the cheek. "Fort first, though. We can start Googling libraries for purchase later. Our job right now is to build the best damn pillow fort this world has seen."_

_"Yes, ma'am," he laughed, saluting as he headed to push play on Hellie's iPod. Obviously they'd need a soundtrack for fort building and that soundtrack would be... *NSYNC. Harry laughed out loud, but quelled immediately when a small decorative pillow ricocheted off the back of his head._

_"Don't you dare laugh about *NSYNC, Mr. One Direction, I will actually end your soul."_

_"I was laughing_ with _*NSYNC, Hell, I was... Oh fuck it, fine, I promise not to laugh about your music taste anymore."_

_"Not when it comes to boybands, you jackass. That's the one place you really do NOT get to laugh."_

_Harry picked up the pillow she'd winged at his head and sauntered back toward her._

_"Okay, darling, no laughing at boybands. Even if they're much more poncy than mine," Harry stole a smiling kiss before Hellie shoved him._

_"Go upstairs and grab more pillows and blankets, you. That's an order!"_

_Two hours later, the Beast was giving Belle her library and Hellie was dramatically swooning in his lap and he kept nearly knocking over the side of their excellent pillow fort with his head and Harry had never felt as completely content as he did in that moment. Not once in his life. From somewhere in front of him, he heard a text alert sound echo out of his phone._

_"It's Kendall," Hellie said, handing him his mobile, voice strangely tight._

_Kendall had texted to get their story straight for the evening. She wanted to see her boyfriend and she'd need a cover, so she wanted to make sure Harry knew she'd told her family they'd be together. It turned out having a fake relationship to foil your family was actually a lot more complex than it had at first seemed. There were lots of little details they both had to keep track of. Still, Kendall was happy and Hellie felt protected from the media and he was fine and the whole stupid arrangement seemed to be working out the way it was planned._

_He replied, indicating that it would be no problem to remember, and that he'd be in all night with Hellie, so no pictures of him out and about would surface, then laughed out loud as she responded with a silly inside joke._

_"You two seem pretty chummy," Hellie said._

_He should have heard the dark tone of her voice. He should have felt the way her whole body stiffened against him._

_"Turns out Kendall is pretty funny," he mused absently, dropping the phone and reaching down to glide his fingers through her hair. At the contact, she shot up, pulling away from him completely._

_"How nice for her. I'm so glad you're enjoying this whole situation so much."_

_"Well, I mean..." he'd begun to sense that every single word needed to be chosen more carefully than usual, and yet, he couldn't stop himself. "Might as well make the best out of this whole thing you got me into."_

_"_ **I** _got you into?! I believe you're the one who called me with this proposition, Harry."_

_"Only because you'd suggested it," he fired back. " Only because I thought it would make YOU feel better! I don't like this one bit and I never have."_

_"Doesn't look much like that to me. In fact, I'd say it looks like you two are having a grand old time."_

_"I can't believe we're having this conversation right now, Hellie. YOU are the one who's been so afraid to be seen with me. You're the one who is terrified to let the world know we're together. I'M not the problem here."_

_"I'm not the one spending time with someone else."_

_"I'm doing this for you! What part of that do you not understand? It was your idea. And I thought if it made you feel better, then it was worth a shot. Was I supposed to choose someone I hate? Who I couldn't even pretend to get along with? How well do you think that would have worked? Who do you think that would have fooled?!"_

_"So you admit it. You like her."_

_"Of course I do, Hellie. But not like_ that _. Not like the way I lo--" he cut off, still terrified to say the word to her, even now, even when she was the one who seemed insecure about his feelings. "The way I feel about you and the way I feel about Kendall have nothing to do with each other."_

_"I beg to differ. They have everything to do with each other. How can you claim that having feelings for someone else has absolutely nothing to do with you feelings for me?"_

_He barked a bitter laugh before he could stop himself. She was twisting everything he said with a hand so deft it was almost an art form. It was almost funny._

_"You know what, Hellie? I'm really not in the mood to stand here and listen as you sabotage this relationship like you did with all the others you've ruined."_

_"Oh, so now I'm the problem? I'm not the one seeing someone else, here, Styles."_

_"I'm not even going to entertain the idea that you believe I'm really seeing Kendall. And, ARGH-- Why do you have to be so bloody difficult?!" he grabbed her by the shoulders, barely resisting the urge to shake her. "Do I think you're the problem? Yes, fine, I do! You've ALWAYS been the problem, Helen. What the fuck are you so afraid of? Why can't you just BE with me?"_

_"I'm trying to," she softened under his hands, beginning to sound less angry and more hurt, "But right now it feels like maybe you're the one who isn't really in this with me. Like maybe you've got half of your heart somewhere else."_

_"All of my heart is in this room. And when you figure out where the fuck you've put the twisted, messed-up pieces of yours, why don't you give me a call, okay?"_

_"That's a low blow, Harry."_

_Guilt flooding his stomach, he stepped closer, shifted his hands to her waist to pull her nearer. "I'm sorry, darling, I don't..." he began, leaning his mouth down toward the sweet spot below her ear and squeezing his eyes closed._

_"Get off me, please, I don't want to be touched right now," Hellie replied, voice tight, anger seeping in again. She pushed at his shoulders, digging her fingers in at the same time. Harry felt like he was being torn in two as he let her begin to guide him away. "I can't even believe you would--" she cut off suddenly squeezing her eyes closed. "Fuck off, Harry. I can't even look at you right now."_

_Suddenly the tone of her voice was too much. Suddenly he couldn't take another minute of her ridiculous accusations. He'd only ever done things exactly the way she wanted him to, and look where it had landed him. Suddenly he was angry, too._

_"Don't you worry about a thing,_ darling _, I'll be out of your sight very soon," he growled, turning on his heel to head for the stairs up to her loft. His wallet was on her bedside cabinet._

_When he stepped away Harry heard her gasp as if the sound was being ripped out of her just like he was ripping his arm out of her hand._

_"Harry, love, I--" Harry's head whipped around at the sound of the L-word and Hellie froze, eyes wide and hand mid-air as if she didn't know whether she wanted to cover her mouth, or press it to her chest, or reach for him again._

_Silence unspooled between them, then snapped back like a yo-yo in a skilled hand. His heart was pounding and his mouth had gone dry._

_"Hell?" he said her name like it was a question. The only one he ever wanted to ask or answer again._

_Hellie flexed her fingers, then balled them into a fist that he watched her force down to her side._

_"I love you," she said, voice heavy with the weight of the tears clutching at its edges, threatening to drag it down._

_Harry didn't wait to hear more. Or think more. Or say more. He barreled through the space between them and crashed into her, cupping her cheek in his hand and swallowing her shocked cry with his lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until they'd backed into the wall, the contact jarring him back into some kind of consciousness._

_Crown of his head against the wall behind her, Harry slid his face into the curve of her neck and croaked out the only words that seemed to come to him, more of a plea than a command, though it was both, "Say it again."_

_And she did. She said it a thousand times over and over until she dissolved into happy laughter and he pulled back and smiled at her and the words tumbled out of his mouth too._

_"I love you, Helen Anne. You are the biggest moron I know, and I love you so much I don't even... I don't even know what to do with it."_

_"Stop seeing her, Harry. I can't take it anymore. I know, I know -- it's fake, and I know it doesn't mean anything, but I can't... it's tearing up my heart."_

_He felt a smile -- unbidden -- quirk upward at the corner of his mouth and he bit into his lip to keep from laughing._

_"Fuck you do NOT make an *NSYNC joke right now. I will kill you," she narrowed her eyes at him menacingly. Well, sort of menacingly. She was also trying to fight a smile, and he could see that very clearly._

_"And when we are apart, do you feel it too?"_

_"HARRY!"_

_"What? You're the one who brought *NSYNC into this, Hell."_

_"I'm going to regret loving you, I think," she laughed and leaned in for another kiss._

_"Oh god, I'll make sure of it," he said against her mouth before drowning himself in her lips._

*

"Mommy always called you 'love,'" Cass noted, adjusting against Gemma, who had wrapped an arm around Cass' shoulders long ago.

"She did," he affirmed, smiling. "It started that day. I kept making your mum say it, over and over and over, and it just... stuck. She knew how much I loved to hear it, and I think, especially at first, she loved saying it, too. I never quite understood what held your mum back for so long, but it always felt to me like, once she'd said she loved me she felt... free? She felt free every time she said it for a while, there."

It was Ollie who broke the silence. Ollie who finally just... broke.

"What if she never says it again?" he asked, words soft and spoken into his peas, followed by a huge sob.

"Oh, Ol," he sighed, shoulders sinking, heart shuddering to a stop in his chest at the sight of his son in such a state.

"Sweetheart," his mother said, pulling Ollie into her side. "It's okay to be scared, duck. But please know that everyone at this table trusts what the doctors are telling us. Your mum is going to be okay, and she's going to wake up and tell you she loves you just as soon as she can."

It took Ollie a few minutes to gather himself, and looking about the table, he could see that even the adults were struggling too. Swallowing hard. Blinking deliberately. Pursing their lips.

"Alright, enough of this sad sack business. I think it's high time we watch a film where some things explode!" he exclaimed, pushing his seat away from head of the table and reaching to begin clearing dishes.

"I've got it, Harry," Mary-Lou said, taking the plate from his hands. "Why don't you and Ollie go set up the movie while we clean up in here?"

He smiled gratefully at Mary-Lou, then his mother, who climbed out of her bench seat, allowing Ollie to escape with an affectionate ruffle of his hair, but otherwise, no embarrassing fanfare. These were some of the best people in the world, here, in this house. And he was luckier than he'd ever supposed at having them in his life. His children were lucky to have them, too. No matter what happened, they still had these people. And the pieces of Hellie that existed in them, the pieces she'd given away, the ways she'd changed them, those things would never go away. They'd always have those, and so would Cass and Ollie. It was a horrible relief.

"Let's go, mate, I hold veto power, but... if your taste isn't absolutely horrific, you can choose the movie tonight," he said, pushing Ollie ahead of him toward the kitchen door. He received a small laugh in return and the tension in his chest eased just that tiny bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter written, another chapter posted. I'm starting to establish a nice rhythm, here! (This time I've even written a bunch of _another_ chapter, too. I'm just killing it here, clearly.)
> 
> Hope you guys are as glad as I am that Hellie stopped being a shit long enough to say ILY. Sometimes I just have to roll my eyes at her, and she's mine.
> 
> Anysteez. I should go. I'm trying to talk myself out of buying tickets to see Man City/Liverpool here in NYC this week and failing. So. I need to go like... find some friends who like footie.
> 
> xx.loose
> 
> ps. Forever thanks to [fleetofships](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships) who is the bestest and most supportive beta I could ask for. (She even gave me kudos here, despite the fact that she's clearly read all of this sixty times before it comes anywhere near the archive. Awesome, right?) Go badger her into finishing/posting her story about Harry and croissants for me, okay? It's food porn and Harry all in one place, so like, what could go wrong?


	6. We're Shooting Straight From The Heart

 

* * *

 

_**This fan-made video has taken the internet by storm. In it, a distraught young woman rails against McGovern and her role in Styles' life, beginning with their recent, as-yet-unexplained car accident, and going back to the moment, nearly fourteen years ago, when the couple announced their shocking, unplanned pregnancy.** _

_**At the time, with Styles at the absolute peak of his young career, news of McGovern's pregnancy ignited a furor among fans. There were accusations that the children weren't his, or that she was attempting to force a marriage. Then, as now, Styles laid low and did not offer much public comment on the situation, which for a time only fueled the fire.** _

_**These days, with videos like this, history seems to be repeating itself --** _

*

There was a small, poorly-stifled cough in the doorway off his shoulder and he spun, slamming his laptop closed to stop the video playback.

"How long've you been there?" he asked his son, shocked.

"A while," Ollie shrugged.

"What did you hear?"

He could feel his heart-rate rising. He'd spent a lifetime trying to keep his children away from media and gossip that related to him. He knew -- really, he did -- that he had never been 100% successful, but he'd made the effort anyway. And here he was now, looking at a child who had not only overheard a story about his father, but one that pertained to him as well.

"Just more stuff about you and Mommy," Ollie shrugged again. He didn't like the distant look in his son's eye.

"...And?" he asked.

"And how we weren't supposed to happen," his son replied, reaching for something behind the door frame.

"I..." he swallowed hard. "Ol, what you heard wasn't true, it--" he was cut off by Ollie's scoff.

"Dad, we've done the math before. Cass and I aren't that thick. You were like, twenty, when we were born, and it's not like you and Mommy ever got married or anything, so--"

"Your mum and I--" Harry paused, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair. Ollie's tone of voice, sort of dead, but sort of hurt, was killing him. "Ollie, you have to understand-- these stories, even when they're true, always oversimplify everything. I know it's hard to remember that, and your mum and I never wanted you to hear things this way, but..."

"Then why didn't YOU tell us?" Cass spoke up, coming around Ollie to stand in the doorway, eyes burning, still grasping at her brother's hand. "So we would know. So we wouldn't hear them like this."

"I don't know, monkey, I really... It's hard, with this stuff, to know when, or how, to tell you guys. I don't think," he sighed and shifted to make room on Hellie's bed beside him, "Com'ere to me, you two, sit down. This might take a while."

While the kids shuffled across the room, he dropped his head into his hands and mussed up his hair again. He was never supposed to have these conversations without Hellie. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it without damaging his children permanently. Without risking everyone's relationships. And maybe they should have planned better, as parents, but Hellie was just never supposed to not be there and this was never supposed to be happening like this and no one could ever have predicted any of it, could they? There was nothing left but honesty, it seemed. Or as much of it as he could manage. He needed to trust his instincts, now. He needed to trust his children.

"This was never supposed to happen, there was... Your mum and I knew that someday, you'd come to us and want to talk about what happened after you were born, but I guess we just didn't expect it so soon. And maybe we put it off because we were a little scared to tell you. Because it wasn't perfect, it wasn't like most of your school friends and--" he took a deep breath, "And we never wanted you to feel like there was... like you weren't the most loved kids in the world, like there was even a moment of your lives where your mum and I _both_ didn't love you into absolute bits. Or as if there was a risk of there being a moment like that at any point in your lives. Our love for you two is unconditional, and I think we were both terrified you'd doubt that -- doubt us -- if we told you the whole story."

The twins just sort of... stared. Mostly blank expressions, slow breathing, hands clutched together but not clenched. In the absence of any sign of what to do, he just... continued.

"I know this is hard to understand -- or maybe it isn't and your mum and I were just scared and selfish, and we didn't want you to think we were anything but superheroes. But, we are... we're not perfect. We're totally, totally human. And there was nothing more human in our lives than the moment we found out you two were coming..."

*

_"Hellie, what's wrong?"_

_Hellie froze, her expression shifting from consternation to utter blankness in a second. His heart began working overtime, rising from his chest into his throat. This was... Hellie had never schooled her eyes into hiding things from him. Never, not even when she'd been trying to tell him they weren't a thing, that she didn't love him. Even then he'd always seen the truth in her eyes._

_"Hellie, darling, please don't hide from me. Those eyes... please," he pleaded._

_He was barely inside her front door. She'd pulled him inside, clinging to him desperately, her kisses wet and open and hungry for something. More than just closeness, it seemed, maybe something like reassurance, too. He'd suspected something in that moment. But then she went slack in his arms. Then she started to feel jittery, hesitating in his embrace, then clutching at him again, then hesitating once more. And over and again. Her movements small, but so, so clear to him in his arms, against his lips._

_"I don't know how to do this, Harry."_

_"Do what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. He scarcely recognized this Hellie._

_"Tell you this, tell you I'm... I'm pregnant."_

_He stumbled backward a little bit. It felt like he'd been punched in the sternum. Like, square in the center of his chest. And hard. Hard enough to fuck up his diaphragm and make breathing this thing that was very hard to do properly. How? ...How?_

_"Well, that's one way to do it," he quipped, trying to seem so much calmer than he was, trying to pull her close again. "Can we, ehm, eh... Can we sit down for a minute?"_

_"S-sure," she stuttered, ignoring the way he reached for her and turning to walk away._

_Hellie waited for him to choose a seat before fitting herself into the opposite corner of the couch. This did not, for even half a second, make him feel any better. Why was she so far away? Was... what was going on? Was it not his? Oh god, had she cheated on him? No. No. That was not possible. This was just... this was Hellie, freaking out because... because holy shit this wasn't supposed to happen. And Hellie, Hellie wasn't good with 'wasn't supposed to happen.'_

_Hellie didn't say anything. Just looked at him, expression distant and still sort of blank, hands knitted together. He watched her breathe for a moment, gathering himself, trying to figure out how to proceed without making this any messier._

_"It's... it's mine?"_

_"Of course it is, you toolbox, I can't..." she looked up, angry now._

_He'd probably fucked up, but the truth was all of a sudden he felt gloriously happy. He flew across the couch and crushed his mouth down on hers, and after a moment, she acquiesced to him, returned the kiss, let her fingers tangle into his hair. But even that only lasted a moment, even then she only gave him a few breaths before she pulled back into herself, before the kiss went cold. Harry released her._

_"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply... I guess we've both kind of started this off on the wrong foot, but... Hellie, we're... we're having a baby?!" the smile that tore across his face almost sort of hurt. Joy was pressing air out of his lungs now._

_"I'm having a baby, yes," she replied softly, hands dropping to her low belly, though from his angle there didn't appear to be much of a bump. "I'm about eight weeks along, and..."_

_"Eight weeks, Hellie, why didn't you tell me?!"_

_"I didn't know until it was six weeks, and I just needed some time, Harry. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do, and..."_

_"What you wanted to do?" he felt coldness creep into his chest. "Shouldn't... shouldn't that be a conversation we have together? Isn't that what we're doing now?"_

_"Harry, I... I had no way of knowing how you'd react. And it's... this is my body we're talking about. This is my life."_

_"And somehow, it's not mine?" he asked, becoming increasingly upset._

_"I'm not trying to say that this has nothing to do with you, but like, Harry, it's just... It's not like you're the one who has to carry this child, it's not like your life changes the same way mine does with this. I just needed to make some decisions."_

_"And what did you decide?" he asked, his voice sounding dead in his own ears._

_"I want... I'm going to keep the baby, Harry. I'll be nearly 31 when it's born, and I don't know how many more chances at this I'll get, given my parents' history of difficulty, and I've got a great job, a solid salary and plenty of savings, and I can-- I can do this."_

_He simply looked at her, knowing in his core that she wasn't done talking. That there was something she wanted to say that she'd held back on just yet. He'd let her say it. And he'd breathe. He'd breathe calmly and pretend he wasn't hurt. That every word didn't feel like a weapon striking at him._

_"And I just... I want you to know it's okay. You're off the hook. I know you're young, and this came out of nowhere, and it just can't be any part of your plan for life, and that's fine. You don't have to worry about me. I can do this on my own, you're... you're free."_

_"Are you absolutely shitting me, Helen?" This time he couldn't stay quiet. Or measured, even. He shouted. She looked up at him, stricken and he deflated a bit, laughing angrily and shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm so fecking-- I really, really wish I thought you were joking, Hell."_

_"Why would I be joking?" she asked, eyes fighting something. Tears, perhaps._

_"You really think that I would walk away from our child? You really think I'm that much of a selfish dick?"_

_"No! No, I don't... I didn't mean that you're selfish. You're not selfish. I just..." she paused, hesitating to reach for him, "I want you to feel okay with letting me take care of this. I'd-- I don't think I could live with myself if you, if I-- if my fuck-up, and, and my decisions around that totally ruined your life. I couldn't stand to look at you every day and feel like I'd robbed you of something. I love you too much, to, I can't... I can't ruin your life, Harry."_

_He felt himself begin to unclench at her explanation. It was ridiculous, of course. She was being ridiculous. But she was being Hellie. And she wasn't... at least it wasn't because she doubted him. Or thought poorly of him. He wasn't sure he could manage being near her if she thought ugly things like that about him. This woman he loved so, so much._

_"I don't understand why you're taking this all on yourself. Why everything is your fault, as if I had nothing to do with this happening."_

_"I told you I was on birth control, I let you think it was fine, it's my fault this went the way it did."_

_"And you weren't on birth control?" he asked, raising one confused eyebrow._

_"I was. An IUD. It-- it was supposed to be like, 99.5% effective. But it came out, and... I guess we're really just... we're the less than 1%," she laughed bitterly at the joke._

_"Okay, so, again... how is this your fault? How is this just your problem?"_

_"I don't know, Harry, I don't... I just... Finding out was this huge shock and I felt so detached from the news for a while. Like... it just didn't seem possible. That birth control was like... the best there is. I was so unprepared for what I heard. And then I was scared and then I was uncertain and then I realized I just needed to know my own mind and..."_

_"And you did this all alone?" his voice broke over the question._

_"When I made the appointment, I just thought... I just didn't think it was possible. I thought they were going to tell me I had a cyst or something. If I'd thought, I would have had you there, or tried to, or... And then, after I found out, you were gone and I just... the thought of telling you this over a phone line, or on Facetime, without you right here with me seemed so awful. And then I don't know, I just got messed up. And I really needed to sort myself."_

_"I hate that you went through that without me," he was trying not to cry, now._

_"Please, Harry, don't be... I'm sorry. I really am. Please don't be mad at me, or yourself, or... I know you feel like I fucked this up. And maybe I really did. But I just love you so much, and I love this baby so much, I just... I've never felt like this and it's terrifying and I know it's amazing, I know it's good terrifying, but I had to be prepared for everything. I had to get my head and my heart together. And I had to... I couldn't live with myself if I robbed you of One Direction, or of--"_

_"Nope, no. Nope. Helen," he held a hand up in her direction. "We are not doing this again. This like... 'I'm going to fuck up your band,' bullshit. That noise went away months ago and I'm not letting it seep back into our relationship. You love me, I know you do. I need you to keep loving me. I need you to keep trusting me. You know why? Because this kid needs us to trust each other. We are doing this together and I know it's going to be hard, but we have to trust each other, we have to stick together, we have to..."_

_It was Hellie who closed the space between them this time. Harry barely caught her weight, his hands grasping at her sides as her lips crashed into his for a desperate kiss. His mouth could barely keep the pace she was setting, but he was determined to give it his all. To kiss her until everything between them came back into balance. With each open and close of her lips, each dart and swirl of her tongue, each sigh she uttered into his mouth, some of the hurt and sadness and fear bled out of him, disappeared into nothingness._

_When she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands, he smiled softly, a little sadly, before turning his face to kiss her palm, then catching her eyes again._

_"Hellie, you have to promise me. You have to promise me I didn't do anything to make you feel like we couldn't do this together."_

_"I promise, Harry, it wasn't something you did. I just... I don't even know if I can explain what it felt like for me, when I found out I was pregnant like that and it just threw me into a tailspin. I was in this vacuum -- and I know, I created that vacuum by waiting so long -- and I just... lost it a little. I just lost control. But it wasn't about you. You've never made me feel anything but loved. Adored, even."_

_He swallowed back tears as he took hold of Hellie's face, pressing his thumbs up under her eyes as if that would stop her crying._

_"Promise me one more thing, Hell. Promise me we're in this together. No more-- no more pulling away from me, Hellie. Promise me," he could hear the desperation in his voice, but this was... this was the biggest thing in his whole entire life. He couldn't fuck it up, he couldn't let them fuck it up._

_"I promise," she whispered. It was a choked-off sound. Not like the words didn't want to be said, but like all the feeling she was putting behind them made it difficult for her mouth to accommodate them._

_He kissed her softly, sweetly, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhaled her scent, as he tried to memorize the things that he loved about this moment._

_"And I'm sorry, too," she said, pulling back just slightly. "For... for you thinking I doubted you. For making you think that. I'm sorry I'm so scared sometimes. That I'm so bad at this."_

_"Hey! Be nice to my baby mama," he whispered, smiling against her lips. "I want my kid growing up thinking she's a superhero, because that's the woman I see."_

*

"So basically, mum freaked out and you freaked out and you fought about it, and..."

"It wasn't either of our finest moments, I'll grant you that," he sighed, "But we didn't fight, per say. We miscommunicated a lot. And that's... Ol, that's not the point I'm trying to make. The point is, even when we were sort of... messing everything up, there wasn't a second where we didn't love you. Your mum knew she loved you from the minute she found out you existed. I knew I loved you the very same way, from the moment your mum told me you were mine."

Still more quietness, more distant expressions on his children's faces. He reached forward, resting a hand on each of their knees.

"Someday I hope you both have the pleasure of experiencing love, and happiness, so big and beautiful that it's absolutely terrifying. Because all of a sudden, you feel how much more you have to lose, too. And I hope you two are both more mature and sensitive and... I hope you both handle it better than your mum and I maybe did--" he broke off, suddenly realizing there was nothing to apologize for here. Nothing he'd actually change. Which was the whole point. Which was the lesson, the thing he wanted these children he loved so much to learn. That life was in the mistakes and the fuck-ups and the switchbacks and the broken hearts and silly words. Maybe moreso than in the nuggets of perfection that existed sometimes, too.

"You know what? No. Your mum and I are human, and we maybe said some silly things, or worried about stuff we shouldn't have. We made lots of little missteps, and later we made lots of huge mistakes. But that's just... life. That's life. And we always did everything we could to make sure that you two remained our top priority. We always knew we loved you so much that that was all that mattered. And I hope, not that you handle it better, but that you remember the same things we did. That no matter what, no matter how things go down, you always make the right choice in the end."

He grinned.

"Besides, we got a lot of things right after that. I had two weeks off tour and your mum and we hardly talked about anything but you the entire time. I didn't think I was even going to be able to drag myself away from your mum to go back to tour. If she'd asked me to stay even one more time..."

*

_"It's decaf, I promise," Harry said, placing a knee beside Hellie on the couch and passing her a cup of iced coffee._

_"This is the worst part," Hellie muttered, giving the sweaty cup a desultory glare before taking a quick sip and putting it down on the coffee table._

_"The decaf coffee?"_

_"Okay, there are many worst parts. Like. I miss the good blue cheese. And whisky. Christ, I miss whisky. And I know, I know. There are sure to be way more worst parts, like when I'm so fat I can't even lean over to tie my own shoes or when I swell up like a beach ball and my shoes don't fit anyway. But you know how I feel about my coffee, love."_

_"I do," he smiled, leaning in for a sweet kiss on the lips, then pressing another kiss just below her right ear, which elicited a small shiver._

_He pulled back to head to the kitchen for a napkin when Hellie grasped at his wrist desperately._

_"Don't go," she pleaded._

_"Hell, I'm just going to the kitchen. I'll be back in a jif," he replied, aiming a squinty, confused smile at her._

_"No, I mean, don't leave me here. Don't go to Toronto tomorrow. Let's just stay in this apartment forever. I'll quit my job, we can order take-out until the world ends."_

_"Oh god," he groaned, falling back on the chaise and clutching at his chest while toeing his shoes off. "You know I wish I could."_

_"But you have to go anyway."_

_"Aye, I do," he adjusted, turning onto his stomach and lying perpendicular to Hellie to rest a hand on her low belly. It had only been two weeks since he found out, and things hadn't really changed much, but he kind of couldn't stop himself from touching her there. Or dropping kisses there. "But you know most of me is here, with you two, right? No matter where I am."_

_"I know," she whispered, then swallowed hard, dropping her head back onto the arm of the couch. "Can we, uh... let's talk about something else."_

_"Sure thing, darling."_

_"So when you go..."_

_"Well, you're absolute rubbish at changing the subject."_

_"Harry," she intoned, shooting him a look of death. He clamped his mouth closed around a smile. "Can you... I want to wait until I'm in my second trimester before we tell anyone, like, at all. Even the boys. I know it seems like an old wives tale kind of thing, but I've seen how hard it was on friends to lose children after they'd started telling people about their pregnancies, and I just... it's less likely if we wait, and..."_

_"Hell, I'm going to follow your lead on this one. We don't have to tell anyone until you're ready. You're not very big yet, anyway."_

_"HARRY!" she shoved at his shoulder, but laughed._

_"I just mean that you don't have a, eh... a very defined bump--"_

_"Way to word that gently, love."_

_He winked and continued, "So even if you're spotted somewhere, I don't think anyone would notice. Most of the paps should leave you alone while I'm gone anyway."_

_Hellie reached out and smoothed her fingers across his brow. He hadn't noticed the anger knitting into his features, but the thought of paps getting in her face was even worse, now. It was sort of amazing how fast he'd become even more protective of Hellie. Of Hellie and their baby._

_Their baby._

_"You know, I had an idea for a middle name, if it's a girl."_

_Hellie had begun pitching baby names almost the moment she'd stopped being a prize idiot about whether or not Harry was going to stick around. It had been a somewhat whip-lash inducing shift, going from "I don't need you" to "I can't even name this child alone" in the matter of a few sentences. But Harry chose to believe that was just a sign of the fact that Hellie had never really counted him out, no matter what she said._

_At first he'd had a hard time participating in the debate. Hellie's opinions were already quite detailed -- she assured him that wasn't because she'd started working on ideas without him, but because she had a lifetime's experience naming fictional characters in her writing -- and he'd never actually spared much energy considering what he'd name his children. He was sure he'd been asked that question in an interview at some point -- their female fans wanted to know the darnedest things -- but he just couldn't, for the life of him, remember what he'd even thought or said._

_Not that Harry didn't think names were important -- he definitely did. In the minute the conversation started, the importance of the decision had struck him like a ton of bricks. They were saddling this kid with an identity for life with just the one decision._

_It just... wasn't his first concern. Wasn't at the top of his mind. But that was also perhaps because he didn't have Hellie's two week head-start on reading the pregnancy books. Or the ability to read entire books in a day or two. They had months to name this kid, whereas he only had a few days left to sort what would happen in Hellie's eleventh week of pregnancy. And he was desperate to know everything. Like especially when he would be able to start feeling the baby move._

_"Oh really?" she asked._

_They'd decided on Cass for a girl. Hellie loved Irish names, and this one riffed on her mother's maiden name -- Cassidy -- without feeling "overdone" to her. Harry thought of Mama Cass, from the Mamas and the Papas, and liked that the name had a kind of musical history with it (even a sad one)._

_"What about Cox? Cass Cox Styles."_

_Hellie pulled a face. "Harry!"_

_"What's wrong with Cox?" he asked, affronted, before directing his next comment to her belly, "Don't listen to your mum, tadpole, this is a great idea. Your mum is named after both of her grandmothers, Helen and Anne. So I think we should name you after both of your grandmothers. Cass for your mum's mum, and Cox for mine."_

_"Harry! No. We can't!" she exclaimed sitting up suddenly and shielding her belly from him, eyes blazing and cheeks flushing. "Stop looking at me like that. We cannot put 'cock' in our kid's name. She'll get teased forever. Forever ever. I can't... oh my god, just imagine her on the playground when she's like, 9, with the boys just taunting her non-stop. I can't, Harry. We can't set our daughter up for that kind of teasing... Stop, stop laughing at me!"_

_"I'm not laughing at you, darling. Or I am, but like... not AT you at you. More like 'with you'," he defended._

_"I'm not laughing," she intoned, very seriously._

_"I'm sorry," he bit down on his lower lip, trying to contain his laughter, his painfully enormous smile. He'd smiled that smile more than ever this past two weeks. This accident was making him happier than he'd ever thought possible. "You're just really, really cute right now, all worked up like this, imagining our daughter getting teased on some playground a decade from now," Harry said fondly, sitting up and reaching forward to graze his knuckles across her cheek._

_"I just don't want to like... fuck my kids up before they even get into this world, you know? I have too much time to do that after they're born. And I know fucking them up is at least half my job description, too, but like... I want to do the stuff I can do right right, you know?" She replied with seriousness and urgency._

_"I know, darling. I know. I love you. It's okay. And if you think it's that big of a deal, so much so that you would value that concern over the more sentimental or traditional or whatever you want to call my idea, then I'm with you. We can name her Cass... Kathleen."_

_"You are an enormous pile of sentimental mush about this child already, love," she sighed, shoulders easing as she allowed him a kiss. "I'm going to be the mean parent, aren't I?"_

_"Stop changing the subject, Helen Anne," he swept in for another kiss, smiling against her lips. "What are we naming our daughter?"_

_"I'll... I'll place Cox under consideration," she replied, smile beginning to tug at the outer corner of her mouth. Harry pressed a kiss to the spot, then another below her jaw._

_"Oh, I am so going to wear you down, Hell. You have no idea," he rasped against her ear, his mouth curling into a hungry grin. "_

_"You always do," she murmured._

_"I do," he continued, still smiling at her reply. "But for now..."_

_His tongue darted out to trace the edge of her earlobe, and with a quick nip of his teeth, he began working his lips in a trail down her neck while he coasted his hands up under her shirt. Hellie acquiesced to him immediately, becoming pliant under his hands. This was one of his favorite side-effects of her pregnancy: increased sex-drive. Sex had becoming more and more fun in the last two weeks, Hellie easier and easier to drive mad._

_"I love you," she murmured when their eyes caught as he paused his ministrations to remove her tank-top. "I love you so much it scares the shit out of me that I'll fuck it up."_

_"You've got me forever now, Hell," he replied, voice thick. "No matter what, we're forever now."_

_His open kiss on her belly elicited a desperate, hungry gasp that urged his lips onward, downward, while Hellie lifted her hips to allow him to pull her leggings and panties off in one quick motion. After that, she didn't say much, and neither did he, but they came together again and again. They became one._

*

"Truth is, things were... kind of weird, then. The tour was taking a toll on us -- Uncle Louis and Uncle Zayn especially. We were trying to rush another album together, which felt like shit, trying to stay healthy on little sleep, trying to keep our fans happy and our energy up and our shows off-the-charts, all under the constant scrutiny of the press. Dating your mum had eased the pressure on my personal life, but then it increased on my professional life. Things got tense, then distant, then tense again between the lads and I, and the press was all over it. Was only too happy to speculate about your mum's roll in all that. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I was terrified, at the time. Not that your mum was going to be a problem for One Direction, but that we were going to break apart all by ourselves, no outside influence necessary.

"But at the same time, I just... I really had never been happier or more excited in my life. We didn't even know you two were a two yet. Which, at least for me, was honestly crazy exciting news when we finally found out.

"But either way, whether it was one or two of you coming into my life, I just knew it was going to be great. That you were going to be the most beautiful thing I'd ever had a hand in creating. And I wasn't wrong," he stopped, finally, ruffling Ollie's hair.

"Ugh, Dad, stop being so gross," Ollie recoiled.

"There is nothing gross about thinking you two are beautiful."

"It's gross to think about how you and mum created us."

"Nope. That's not gross either. That is also beautiful."

"DAD!" Ollie exclaimed, horrified.

He laughed. There was little more enjoyable in the world than making his kids uncomfortable with vague references to sex. Particularly the sex that had created them. He understood his parents so much better, now. There was just something so gratifying about embarrassing the piss out of your children once in a while. Like... this had been happening since the dawn of time, and it was still happening, and how could the world not be okay if things like this were a constant?

"Sorry, not sorry, Ol. You teed that one up for me. I really had no choice."

"Lies," Ollie muttered, ducking to hide what Harry was _sure_ had to be a smile.

"Daddy?" Cass asked, quietly, crawling across the bed to curl herself into his side.

"Yes, monkey?"

"What happened when you found out there were two of us?"

"If I tell you, will you go back to bed? It's half three in the morning and you need some sleep."

"Can I stay here?"

"Of course, monkey, of course." As Cass cuddled even closer to his side, he ran a hand through her wavy hair comfortingly. She wasn't going to make it to the end of the story, he was sure, but he'd tell it all anyway. Just in case.

*

_"Well, that explains it," Jazmin, the ultrasound tech, murmured to herself. Harry's eyes snapped to her as if she'd suddenly shouted._

_"What explains it?" he asked._

_It was very nearly week sixteen and they were jittery with nerves about this first ultrasound. Hellie had expressed some concern (okay, she was totally panicky) about about her weight gain, which had begun to accelerate at what she thought was an alarming rate in the past few weeks. Harry thought she was worried about nothing, but he'd never quite word it that way with her. Especially since she'd become pretty... well, hormonally challenged was one way to put it. It was a nice way to put it._

_"Well, I'll need the doctor to confirm for sure, but--"_

_"But what?!" he cut her off._

_Okay, perhaps he was a bit on edge about all this, too. It was just... Hellie worrying made him worry, more than ever now. And they'd reached a point in Hellie's pregnancy where she basically couldn't hide it anymore, or at least not for much longer, and now that they were a month into her second trimester and that bump was really starting to make itself known, well... it was time to tell everyone. He was ecstatic. He was terrified. He wanted to make sure Hellie's fears were -- at least so far -- unfounded before he put this out into the world. Before all eyes turned to him and Hellie with a new light._

_"Love, give Jazmin a chance to finish her sentence, please," Hellie said quietly, squeezing his hand tightly._

_"Technically I should wait for the doctor to confirm, but I'm basically positive I see-- It's twins. Congrats, you two, you're expecting twins."_

_"I'm sorry, what?" Hellie asked, so shocked her voice was almost harsh. Harry took his turn to squeeze her hand. Jazmin merely laughed._

_"See, right there? That's one set of legs. And over there? That's another. I'll get another angle, so you can see a bit better, there's... their heads are near each other, see? They're in kind of a similar position, but there, can you see the two separate bodies?"_

_"You know, I thought when it was my ultrasound, for my kids, I'd be able to make sense of this shit. But I just cannot read these... Oh, oh my god, wait! Harry, there's two of them!"_

_Tears immediately began cascading down her cheeks. Harry had seen it right away. Right when Jazming pointed out the second set of legs. But again, he'd never say that to her. Not when she was in this state._

_"I know, darling, I know," he rested his smiling face against her temple and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the rush of his heart, Hellie's exlamations of joy._

_"Oh my god, we're having two babies. Like... at once. We're having two babies at once. I have two babies inside me, right now," Hellie dissolved into tearful laughter and he kissed the edge of her mouth, slick and tasting of salt._

_When the doctor entered they were kissing and smiling and kissing again, grasping at each other's hands while Jazmin held the wand to Hellie's growing belly._

_"Mr. Styles, Ms. McGovern," he greeted._

_Harry saw the moment recognition dawned on Jazmin's face as she pieced together his name, the curls poking out from under his hat, the redhead beside him, and maybe a thousand other tiny, publicly available details with the very private details she was becoming privvy to in this room. He tried very hard not to clench Hellie's hand, but knew he'd failed by the way her head jerked around to face him. This moment seemed so private. So personal. And even this moment couldn't stay that way. He began to understand Hellie's early fears about their relationship a bit more, right in that moment._

_"It's okay, Hell," he whispered, kissing her temple again._

_"Doctor Berlin," Harry turned and nodded at he doctor, swallowing his sudden anxiety and indicating he could go about... whatever needed going about._

_"From the crying I can tell you've just done, I'm assuming Ms. Hernandez has already told you you're expecting twins?" the doctor asked, kindly._

_Hellie, still teary, squeezed his hand. He took his cue to answer with a tight, emotional, "Yes."_

_"This will probably change a lot of things for you two, and if you'd like to talk with a counselor, I'm happy to refer you to someone. But in terms of your medical care, Ms. McGovern, it won't change much outside of timing. You'll have the same testing done as you would for a singleton, you'll just have it earlier. What will change is that you'll be having more frequent ultrasounds, and we'll be watching you like a hawk as you get closer to your due date, because you are much more likely to go into labor prematurely. But from the looks of things so far, you and the babies appear to be extremely healthy and growing right on track."_

_"Are there... Is there anything special we should be reading?" Harry asked. He'd become obsessed with the books. They made him feel more in control, even when he had to be away from Hellie._

_And he'd have to be away from Hellie again too soon. In mere days. And everything was about to change. Not just because there were two babies, now. But because this was about to be public information. Even if he trusted Jazmin's silence -- and he did, or at least, he really wanted to -- there were just more and more links in the chain now. They would have to go public. Hellie was healthy and the babies were healthy and it was time to take care of the business part of this, the awful, horrible, probing publicity machine that he'd brought into Hellie's life when he fell in love with her. When he convinced her to be his._

_Later, back on Hellie's couch, after a narrow escape where Harry put himself between Hellie and a pap who had a good angle on her body, and probably her belly, reality continued to settle down around their shoulders._

_"Harry, love, I'm... this is amazing. This is so amazing."_

_"It's mad, Hellie, it's brilliant," replied, swallowing her smile with a kiss and pressing her further back into the couch as the kiss deepened. She tightened her fingers in his hair, urging him onward._

_When they broke apart, he settled into the corner of the couch, dropping one foot to the floor and bending the other leg before pulling Hellie's back between his legs until she rested flush against him. With his lips on her bare shoulder, he cupped her growing bump gently in his hands and sighed. Hellie leaned her head back against his._

_"I don't want to share this with the world," he confessed, serious and sad._

_"Love, we don't have a choice, this is about to become so, so obvious. And you saw, they know who I am well enough now to find me sometimes, even when I'm without you."_

_"I know, and I hate it. I never thought I'd hate it this much. But the idea of anyone getting near you and the baby, the babIES. I just can't bear it."_

_"I'm going to be okay, Harry. And this is... this is our life. Believe me, I understand how you feel. I so do. But this is our life."_

_He froze, then hugged her more tightly against him, the word 'our' sending warmth spreading through his chest. Like his life was so much more than his own now. So much bigger and maybe stronger, and definitely fuller._

_"I love you so much," he choked into the back of her neck._

_"I love you too. I love you and I can't wait to have these babies with you," she replied, twisting in his embrace for a kiss, then adjusting to rest her whole side against him, head against his shoulder, hand pressed to his chest over his heart._

_They fell asleep together there, living, for a tiny while longer, as if the rest of the world didn't exist. Just their growing family._

*

_**ONE DIRECTION SHOCKER!** _

_**Harry Styles announces pregnancy on Instagram.** _

_**Without so much of a hint of the news before Saturday's Instagram post, the 20-year-old One Direction heartthrob broke about a million teenage hearts.** _

_**The picture, in which only Harry's hand is visible, holding a sonogram pic up beside girlfriend Hellie McGovern's small bump, was posted along with the the word "Happening." Shortly after, Styles posted a pic one of his bandmates had taken hours earlier, was captioned "Happiness." In it the two are embracing on-stage at the Rose Bowl, Harry smiling at the camera while Hellie presses her face into his neck.** _

_**As of yet, there has been no official statement from the duo, or from One Direction's representation.** _

*

As predicted, Cass was fast asleep against his side. Ollie was holding on to consciousness, but only just barely, sitting across from him on the bed.

"Bedtime, Ol," he whispered, adjusting Cass gently so she was lying comfortably on Hellie's bed, before rising to his feet.

"Daddy, can I..." Ollie began, pausing and trying to screw together some sense of strength in his features. He softened, watching his young son try to be a man, even then, even as he seemed younger than ever. "I think Cass might need me, if she wakes up. Can I stay here, too?"

"You're right. She might," he replied warmly, caressing Ollie's cheek. "Why don't you two take your mum's bed? I'll take your room."

"Okay, Dad," Ollie replied, adjusting so he was closer to Cass' side, taking hold of her hand.

"G'night, Oliver," he whispered, throat feeling tight, before he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead and forced himself to leave the room.

Outside, in the hall, he stopped, the weight of everything feeling so enormous that he needed a few minutes before he could trudge up another flight of stairs to Ollie's bedroom. Pressing back against the wall to stay on his feet, he cursed a world in which he told these stories without Hellie. Without her permission, or her input, or her help. Without her, completely. As if they were his stories, and not things he shared with her, not things they both owned. In thirteen years he'd never made so many difficult decisions for his children in a row, let alone so many of them alone, in a vacuum, without her strong, steady opinion to guide his.

Parenting solo was miserable. And he was not going to continue doing it. So Hellie was just going to have to wake up. It was decided.

And with that decision, he hauled his exhausted self to bed. Alone and tired of it, and praying to anyone, anything that could possibly listen, for this nightmare to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet: 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> And thanks for being a tremendous sounding board, [fleetofships](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships).
> 
> Love you all.
> 
> xxloose


	7. On the Brink of Something New

* * *

 

_**The nightmare continues for Harry Styles as Hellie McGovern enters her fourth day in hospital, where sources say she remains stable but unconscious.** _

_**In footage captured outside the Whittington Hospital over the past few days, Styles has appeared increasingly distraught. Still, apart from repeated appeals to keep cameras away from his and McGovern's teenage children, Styles has maintained his silence.** _

_**The only additional official information we have on the incident comes from the band's representative, who released a joint statement from Louis, Zayn, Liam and Niall, pleading for the public to share any information they may have about the hit-and-run accident with authorities.** _

_**Unfortunately, little information on the other driver has been turned up. Instead, stories of Harry's heavy drinking the fateful evening of their near-fatal crash have come to light. And witnesses to the accident --which resulted in McGovern's car becoming wrapped around a light-post -- are also stepping forward with tales that indicate Styles was clearly intoxicated when emergency medical professionals hauled him from the passenger side of the wreck.** _

_**Since his teens, Styles has chafed under a bad-boy reputation. While recently he's been seen as a cad and a heart-breaker, a decade ago, in the wake of his now-famous breakup with McGovern -- after which he gave a notorious, shockingly honest interview to New York Magazine detailing McGovern's betrayal -- Styles' drinking and drug use spiraled out of control.** _

_**Lately we're left wondering if this mysterious accident signals Styles' return to those dark days...** _

 

*

 

Both hands wrapped around a mug of tea, he rested against the frame of Hellie's bedroom door, shoulder digging into the wood, one leg crossed over the other. It was unspeakably heartwarming to watch his children's chests rise and fall as they breathed, still deep in sleep, still holding hands.

They were missing morning visiting hours. Frank and Mary-Lou had gone ahead, as loath to wake the kids as he was, with assurances that they'd call the very second there was a change in Hellie's condition. To that end, he had every possible phone -- his mobile, Hellie's mobile, the house phone -- all on his person at this very moment. Just in case.

He was calm now. After waking from a nightmare with a gut-wrenching start -- chest heaving, tears pouring down his cheeks -- watching his children in repose was just what he needed. But it was more than that. It was-- he just... he knew. Felt in his chest, in his bones, that he'd had his last nightmare. That things were improving. That today, some time after his children woke from their slumber, Hellie would wake up, too. That he'd get the call, the news, he'd been waiting days to receive.

As he took another sip of lukewarm tea, one of the mobile phones at his hip vibrated. His. He swiped a thumb across the screen and entered his password to find a text from Louis.

     --  _Calling round Hellie's w another casserole in a few. U there?_

     --  _Yup. Text when you're here, don't knock. Twins are sleeping._  He replied

     --  _No worries. Will do._

It turned out that Louis' hands were quite full as he came up the path, so knocking wouldn't even have been an option. It was a good job he was by the door waiting.

"What did Eleanor do?" he asked, shaking his head and smiling.

"Lasagna, I think?" Louis replied. "She woke up this morning panicked we'd eaten you out of house and home last night."

"As if there's no take-away in the city of London," he laughed, holding the front door open, then following behind Louis to the kitchen. "Thank her for us, yeah?" he added, not wanting to seem ungrateful, even as he was sort of amused by everyone's pressing need to feed him and the kids.

"Of course," Louis said, opening the fridge to shove the tray inside, then looking back over his shoulder with a wicked smirk. "By the way, nice shirt, Haz. Always good to see those manly pecs of yours on display."

Harry looked down. He'd nearly forgotten how deep the neckline was on his shirt. Or really, on Hellie's shirt. In a moment of stifling sadness, of desperation to feel near her, he'd pulled on one of Hellie's oldest, softest t-shirts. On her it was impossibly sexy, the soft fabric slipping over her curves, the cut of the neckline revealing a huge swath of cleavage, the sheer fabric always revealing just a hint of whatever bra she was wearing. On him, it looked a little foolish, a little fey. But he couldn't care. Because it smelled like her and it felt like his memories, the good ones, and it helped him hold on to hope.

"Bugger off," he muttered, switching on the kettle for more tea.

 

*

 

_"Nice tits," Hellie said, smirking, as she pulled back from his kiss and tugged at the open placket of his shirt, which was currently unbuttoned about halfway._

_"They've got nothing on yours," he replied, grin growing to take over his entire face._

_Hellie's boobs had always been pretty big, had always been a source of fascination and amusement for Harry, but now... dear god. They were enormous. Seven months pregnant, Hellie's boobs were like their own planets. He'd seen them over Facetime, should have been prepared, but it had been weeks since he'd seen them in person, and... It was amazing how much could change in a few weeks. His dick twitched just thinking about getting her alone, setting them free._

_"What a lovely greeting, you two. Just heartwarming," Louis muttered, shoving past Harry to hug Hellie._

_Louis laughed as he moved a bit awkwardly to accommodate her bump. Hugging Hellie was kind of hard, these days. She was really round now. Hellie ruffled his hair as he pulled back in their embrace._

_"Now, now, Louieee, just because you don't get to say pervy things to your girl today doesn't mean--" Louis cut her off with a hand over her mouth and a kiss on the cheek._

_"That's exactly what it means, Hellie. And I've gone even longer without seeing Eleanor than you lot have been apart, so I get to whinge all I like."_

_As Louis released Hellie and stepped further into her apartment Liam stepped up to hug her, followed by Zayn and Niall, then Lou and Caroline. Hellie had invited them all over for an early Christmas lunch before everyone parted ways for the holidays. It'd be a while before she was allowed to travel again, and even then, there would be two babies to worry about, and Harry knew Hellie was trying to savor every last child-free moment she could. Trying to help him do the same. He loved her all the more for it._

_Of course, Hellie's apartment was not terribly well suited for so much company, which was immediately clear once everyone had set foot inside. A long, low ceilinged hall extended from the front door to the living area, off which branched a the bathroom and the kitchen. The kitchen opened out onto the living area with a breakfast bar -- currently piled high with festive food -- but even combined the kitchen and the living room couldn't be more than twenty feet long and twelve feet wide, and it was full of furniture -- a massive L-shaped couch, a steamer trunk for a coffee table, a cushy armchair in the corner near the window. A staircase protruded out into the living area beside the fireplace, interrupting the space and ascending up into her lofted bedroom._

_Harry wasn't sure how long Hellie would even be able to stay in this place. She had cleared space beside her bed for two Moses baskets, but once the babies outgrew those, he'd no idea where she'd manage to fit them. He'd pressed once, talked to Hellie about buying her a bigger place here in Manhattan, but she absolutely melted down and would hear nothing more of it. If nothing else, this crowd reminded him he'd need to press again._

_"It smells brilliant in here," Liam said as Harry rubbed Hellie's belly affectionately-- not particularly in the mood to share her with anyone, well aware that he had no choice._

_"I did my best Sunday roast," she replied, smiling. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, I had some help on the chicken and turkey. But I made everything else, I swear!"_

_"Three kinds of potatoes," Niall noted, holding a hand to his heart as he sniffed about the buffet she'd lined up for them. "A woman after me own heart."_

_Hellie laughed, loudly and affectionately. "Help yourself, Niall. Actually, everyone, go ahead and dig in. Just sneak in wherever you can to sit."_

_Harry hung back, pulling Hellie around to face him and stealing a quick kiss. She smiled at him warmly, then ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, tucking some behind his ear, rubbing the ends between her thumb and forefinger._

_"I still love your hair this way," she said softly, giving the ends a gentle tug before running her fingers over his neck and digging them into the hair at the nape._

_"You'll be shocked to hear that's why I have Lou keep it this way," he murmured, leaning in, pressing his words to her ear before sucking and nipping at the lobe._

_"Love," she whispered, strained, "I need a... we can't do this right now and I'm," she paused to swallow thickly, "I need to be careful right now, or I'll forget everyone is here and do something that will ruin their appetites, and..."_

_Harry licked the sweet spot in her neck just below her ear, just to torture her a bit more, then pulled back, reluctantly granting Hellie's unstated wish. His grip on restraint was pretty thin as well. Even though he'd been in the States doing promo work after their tour, Hellie's doctors had insisted she stop traveling just around a month ago, so they had been kept apart. Needless to say, he'd been feeling the burn._

_"Can you take everyone's coats upstairs, love?" she asked, holding him at a distance by the shoulders. "I'll start getting people drinks."_

_"Absolutely," he replied, heading for the pile of outerwear that had built up on the chaise._

_Lunch was gorgeous. Full of loud laughter and bawdy jokes and the sense that just maybe, everything was going to be okay between them. There in Hellie's warm living room, the tension melted away as everyone seemed to forget the months and months of strain. Of tour, and recording and ugly rumors and tense meetings, leaked videos of bad behavior, threats to break contract. They were themselves again, if only for a few hours._

_There was just something about Hellie. Maybe it was the babies on the way, so obviously so close, looking at her now. Maybe it was her way of talking to all of them as though they were hers -- siblings, or friends or both -- as if she would  brook no argument against her affection for them. Watching the lads look after her -- helping her up and down, bringing her drinks, asking if they could pitch in on tidying up -- watching them return her affection, Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest, caught tears rising in his throat, burning at his eyes._

_It was the perfect way to start their holidays, their weeks apart to decompress before the next tour. Just a little reminder that they were still okay, still essentially whole, somewhere, past the layers of frustration and exhaustion and envy and fear and doubt. It was Hellie's gift to them, and Harry knew he'd be eternally grateful to her for it._

_Standing behind Hellie as she dug into her pudding, massaging the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders, he thought of marrying her. It felt palpable, in that moment. As if it were something he could touch. The living room in the home they'd someday share, full of his family -- the one he'd been born into and the one he'd chosen -- would look so much like this one, only larger, fuller, louder. The ring that would sit on Hellie's finger, sparking in the light as she lifted his babies up over her head, pretending to fly them through the air like planes._

_He'd wait to propose, of course. The timing still didn't feel right. He never wanted anyone -- Hellie especially -- to be confused about his intentions. To think his decision was in any way rushed by her pregnancy. But he knew, someday, she'd say yes, and in that moment he couldn't stop the smile from becoming a little wider on his lips._

 

*

 

Louis grinned over his shoulder. He smiled back. The kids really were a sight for sore eyes like this, especially given that Louis probably hadn't seen them in the same bed for a decade. With a wave he motioned for Louis to follow him back down to the sitting room.

"That is..." Louis said, dropping into a chair.

"Oddly comforting, yeah?" he replied. "At first it hurt to see them that way, yeah? They haven't leaned on each other quite like that since they were practically babies. But then it just made me feel better. Like even with all this madness, they have each other, and things are going to be okay. I'm not certain, but I don't think they've actually slept the whole night alone since the accident."

"I hope someday Vivi can be like that with her sibling," Louis mused.

"Sibling?" He rushed to catch Louis eyes. "Lou, are you...?"

Louis smiled up at him, blindingly. "We are."

"Holy shit, Lou, that's amazing! Congratulations, mate! How long have you known?"

"Six weeks? Eleanor is only just twelve weeks along now. You're the first person I've told. El thought you could use some good news."

"Oh man, could I. This is the best! Vivi must be so excited."

"We just told her yesterday. She's... cautiously enthusiastic?"

"Your three-year-old is cautiously enthusiastic?" he chuckled. "How is that, exactly?"

"You had both your kids at once, mate. They never knew what it was like to be an only child. Vivi, bless her, is pretty clear on the fact that some things are about to change. She's a little skeptical."

He laughed, then lapsed into a few moments of contemplative silence.

"Speaking of skeptical, can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Already did, mate," Lou replied.

"Fecker. I just... Anyway. I was just thinking. What made you stop being so skeptical about Hellie?"

"I remembered you're a stubborn arse and the more I told you to stay away, the more you wanted Hellie in your life?" Louis teased.

"Lou."

"That's kind of true! But seriously. I guess I just realized she loved you, too. Even if she was a mess about it." He sighed. "Remember that Christmas lunch she did? That day I just like... I realized it was useless anyhow. She was a million months pregnant and you loved her and she wasn't trying to ruin your life or our band, and... god, those babies were coming, no matter what. That was our life."

"I was just thinking of that lunch earlier, after you teased me about my pecs."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She'd teased me about wearing my shirt open that day when I arrived. Made a joke about my tits."

"Oh, yeah!" Louis exclaimed, seeming to remember the moment himself, then falling silent, looking thoughtful. "That was a good day. And the last time I saw Hellie before the twins came."

"It was a good day," he agreed.

"You know... I think... I think maybe you having the twins is what kept me from quitting the band."

"What?!" he asked, shocked, dragging his eyes away from his cuticles to catch Louis' gaze.

For a while, he'd thought the twins were going to end his band.

"I mean, it wasn't like that at first. When you got her knocked up we were so bloody angry, like. You knew that. Zayn getting engaged to Perrie? That was scary, but then nothing changed. She waited. But babies? They don't wait. They happen. Nine months, and they're there. 

"We were scared bloody senseless you were going to nuke us. Felt like you had that much power, like, and I just kept thinking of ways to end it on my terms. Before you and those babies did it for us. And I dunno, maybe it was just 'coz I was so tired of the whole thing by then, anyway. Burnt out, and, anyway...

"Then the twins came, and nothing changed, like. And I realized... if you could keep leaving them for us, your brand new babies, then what the fuck was I even complaining about? Plus... I think-- God this bit is fucked up, but..." he took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, "they kind of grounded you? Like people stopped putting you on a pedestal above the rest of us, maybe. Or you seemed less exciting? I don't know. Whatever the case, you stopped being the focus of the band -- and I stopped resenting you for it. I stopped feeling like we were all also-rans in the Harry Styles Hall of Fame."

His eyes were closed. He'd known, always, that there had been a point when he'd seemed too big for the rest of the band. Even then, he'd felt it. Hated it. And many years later he'd learned, straight from Lou's mouth, how horrible it had been for the rest of the lads. He'd hated it all over again then, too. 

To hear it now was less of a gut punch than it used to be, but it still sucked. It would probably always suck.

"You never told me the bit about the kids," he replied, voice heavy.

"Didn't seem productive," Louis shrugged. "Maybe today wasn't the day either. But it was on my mind, thinking about having a new baby, thinking... We learned a lot from you, Haz. All of us, on being together. On being parents. You and Hellie, both. Maybe you were too young and maybe sometimes you feel like you fucked it all up. But I think those kids upstairs... they may have been an accident, but I think they're one of the best things that happened to all of us. And whatever happens, with-- with Hellie. Whatever happens, Haz, we're all here. For you, and for those kids. You need to know that, you need to--"

The shrill ring of Hellie's house line cut Louis off mid-sentence. He looked down at the display. Mary-Lou's mobile. That's who was calling. His heart flew into his throat, tried to beat its way out of his body.

"'Lo?" he answered.

Mary-Lou responded without preamble, "Harry, sweetheart, Hellie is awake."

"Oh thank god," he replied, tears pouring down his cheeks in utter relief. "Thank god."

"The doctors are with her now, and I don't think you'll be able to get here before visiting ends anyway, so don't worry about rushing the kids--" as if on cue, both of his children, sleepy-eyed and bed-haired, appeared in the sitting room entry. "But she's awake. I had to let you know she's awake, sweetheart. You can come see her tonight."

"Thank you, Mary-Lou, I can't..."

"You're welcome, Harry. And we'll see you in a little while," Mary-Lou insisted before hanging up. He clicked off the phone, dropping it in his lap and staring at it for a moment as he gathered his composure. Swallowed his heart back down into his chest.

"Your mum is awake," he said simply, smiling as Ollie squeezed Cass' hand and slumped against the wall, while Cass burst across the room and flung herself at him, crying. "I know, monkey, I know," he soothed.

Cass stayed curled up in his lap as Ollie made his way to an empty chair, letting Louis squeeze his hand on the way past. Looking at his son -- the nervy, mouthy, future football star -- he remembered the moment he'd first realized he was going to raise a son  _and_  a daughter. The moment they'd both been placed in his arms. That was the moment everything really, really changed. Find out he was going to be a father? That was such a small thing compared what came next. Compared to the change that happened in the moment his children were first in his arms.

Suddenly walking seemed terrifying -- what if he tripped, dropped the babies, crushed them to death under his weight? -- suddenly nothing on earth seemed safe enough to be near them, these beautiful, perfect, fragile bundles of hope. Suddenly the world seemed like it needed to be a much better place to be worthy of the lives he'd just brought into it. Suddenly he really, truly did not know what to do, and Hellie was looking up at him like he made the sun rise and set and he had never wanted anything to be true so badly in his life. And even though he knew it wasn't -- that it couldn't be -- he had to try to be worthy of it. Of her. Of them.

Amazing how quickly things could change.

"What are you thinking about, Daddy?" Cass asked, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw liked she had as a child, fascinated by the texture.

"The day you two were born, actually," he replied, allowing himself a smile.

"Why?" Ollie put in.

He offered the easiest explanation he had, "Because that's the last time I was this excited to go to a hospital. That's my only good memory of a hospital."

 

*

 

_Two things happened at once. Harry felt the muscles all across Hellie's belly tighten under his palm, and Hellie groaned. He bolted upright in the bed beside her, hand coming to rest in a damp spot on the bed._

_"Hellie? Oh my god, Hell, is this it?" he asked, heart pounding. Pounding._

_For a moment longer Hellie stayed silent, eyes squeezed tightly closed as she lay on her side, still wrapped around a body pillow. He actually saw her stomach move through the thin fabric of her nightdress when the contraction stopped. It was terrifying. It was amazing._

_"This is it," she replied turning her head to face him with a tremulous smile on her lips, in her eyes. "This is it, love. I'm... my water broke and that just really hurt, that contraction, and... this is happening."_

_"Okay, okay, I'm up," he said, breathlessly. And he was. He was on his feet bouncing about the bedroom. "Your bag is by the stairs. Can I get you clothes? Okay. Wait. What's next? What can I get you? We have to go, don't we? Hell, can you sit up? We have to go."_

_"Love," she managed a fond smile, "Take a deep breath. Sit down with me. We don't... We need to time the contractions and see what's going on before we call the doctor. Just breathe with me."_

_Harry's shoulders slumped. Okay. She was right. He remembered this. They didn't just rush to the hospital anymore. This was old hat, now -- Hellie'd had contractions before, and he remembered what the doctors said, that even if her water broke, they should time the contractions, see how far apart they were, if they were sort of regular. But her water had broken, so... yeah. This was real. This was probably real this time._

_"I think I can do that," he smiled softly at her. "Can you come downstairs with me, though, Hell? The bed is wet, and I can clean that up in a little while, but you shouldn't sit in it."_

_It took Hellie a while to get up -- not shocking since it was about 4am, and Hellie was about the furthest thing from a morning person Harry could even think of even on a normal day-- and halfway down the stairs another contraction started. Clutching at Harry's hand as she breathed, Hellie planted herself down on a step and waited it out. Harry started the timer on his phone._

_"Come on, Hell. Let's get you some water and sit you down on the couch. Come'ere to me, darling, put your hands on my shoulders," he instructed, leaning down to let her wrap her arms about him so he could help pull her up. The stairs were no place for her to weather the next contraction._

_Four hours later contractions were sort-of, almost approaching a regular interval. And they were getting longer. And Harry felt like he was going to peel his skin off with his bare hands and a grapefruit spoon if Hellie wouldn't let him take her to the hospital. So they called Doctor Berlin and her parents and his parents again and they set off on their way._

_Ten hours later, and Harry was feeling remarkably collected. Though perhaps that's just because almost anyone would feel cool, calm and collected compared to Hellie. She'd spend the morning -- and afternoon -- screaming. And cursing. And screaming curses in an utterly impressive fashion. Harry had to bite down on several totally inappropriate smiles -- "What the ever living FUCK could possibly be amusing right now, Styles?" she'd asked him the one and only time he'd failed to suppress his happiness -- but he basically hadn't ever loved Hellie so much since the moment he'd met her._

_Another hour more, one featuring several additional strings of obscenities that would make even the roughest blokes on the One Direction crew proud, and pushing, and breathing breathing breathing, and more pushing, and damn near ripping Harry's fingers off, it was over. Or beginning. Or both. And Harry and Hellie had a daughter and a son. Cass Cox and Oliver James. Five pounds, two ounces and five pounds even, respectively, Cass delivered head-first, fifteen minutes before the doctor reached in and hauled Oliver into the world by his legs. Both impossibly tiny and screaming and red and messy and utterly, devastatingly beautiful._

_Harry cried more than Hellie, but less than Mary-Lou. And definitely less than his children, but he could understand that, really, because once he'd been inside Hellie he'd never, ever wanted to leave her either. And holding them both for the first time -- who thought this was a good idea? -- he felt a kind of joyful anxiety he'd never experienced before. Like these were the most precious things he'd ever be granted in his life, and he didn't have nearly the grace or brains or heart to be deserving of them, and yet, no one was going to take them away and so he was just going to have to be better, hell if he knew how._

_Watching Hellie hold them for the first time, propped up in her hospital bed, family arrayed around them, cameras clicking, breath being held, eyes blinking back tears-- it was transformative. He knew, in that moment, that whatever else the world would bring down upon him, he would always have these three perfect humans. The woman he loved and the two tiny lives they'd created. And as Hellie leaned down to whisper softly, first in Cass' ear, then Ollie's, Harry felt his hands twitch at his sides, near overcome by longing to wrap around all three of them, to create a bubble that no one else could ever enter-- a place that protected them from all the hard things he knew were yet to come, were on their way, were waiting outside the hospital doors. Then Hellie looked up at him, and smiled, and laughed just at the edge of tears, and Ollie broke a hand free from his swaddling (strong little bugger) and Cass made a gurgling sound and the bubble burst inside his mind, because how could he keep such beauty from the rest of the world? From the other people he loved? That was pure selfishness. And he needed the world to be a less selfish place for his children. So he would have to start there. He would have to be the first to share._

_With a kiss he backed away and let the rest of their family surge forward, and their whole new life began. Definitely a beginning. The best beginning yet._

 

*

 

"You look sad now, Daddy," Cass said, smoothing her fingers outward across both of his brows.

"I'm not sad, really. I'm remembering sad things, but they were a long, long time ago. It's hard to be sad about them now, when I already know how it all works out," he replied, lying, finding a smile to thread across his face. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about those memories. The ones that came next. "Did you know Uncle Louis is about to become a dad again?"

It was a funny phrasing. He wasn't sure why he chose it. As if you stopped being a dad, ever, at any point in your life after your children were born. As if it were a transient state you could move in and out of, then back into again. God. It wasn't. He'd learned that in about a thousand different ways.

"You're having another kid?" Ollie asked, his eyes glinting despite his lazy, slumped posture, his sort-of raised eyebrow (he had his mother's eyebrows, after all).

"Yup!" Louis popped the 'p' enthusiastically.

"Congratulations, Uncle Louis!" Cass exclaimed. "Is it a girl?"

"Bit early yet, love, we don't know. Hope you're up for babysitting two little buggers at a time, though."

The happiness on Louis' face was almost absurd, and for a moment, he felt a flash of insane jealousy light up his veins. It had been so long since he felt that feeling, that pride-fear-excitement-love-breathless-gripped-by-terror feeling that he was almost certain Louis was feeling in that moment. That he wished he could remember more clearly. Nearly fourteen years. It'd been nearly fourteen years since Hellie told him they were expecting. And he'd never do that again. Never feel that again. Never... god, what an awful word.

"Totally!" Cass exclaimed, pulling him back into the conversation around him, "You guys pay way better than Mum and Dad."

"Considering how little your mum asks from you around here, I think you get plenty of pocket money," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, Dad, we know," Ollie intoned, rolling his eyes. "You guys have talked it over, and blah blah blah."

The pocket money conversation had come up a few times recently. Both twins insisted the kids at school all had more spending cash than they did. Which, given how posh their schools were, was likely true. It was shocking how little either he or Hellie cared about that.

It amazed him, sometimes, how happy he was to be an utterly lame parent. He'd always just assumed he'd be the cool dad. Perhaps that was because he'd never really thought much about parenting before he actually became a parent. Didn't all teenagers think they were going to be cool parents? Much cooler than their own parents, of course. But he had, he'd thought that. And Hellie, god, it was so hard for him to understand how anyone could not be awed by her-- adults, teenagers, her own children, anyone. She'd have to be a cool mom. With that quick mind and power-job and incurably filthy mouth and wardrobe she used like a weapon, how could she be anything but cool?

Except. She was the opposite of cool as a parent. Utterly unconcerned with her kids thinking of her as a friend, or even as someone they particularly liked. All she cared about was respect. That they respected her rules, her reasons behind them. Respected her enough to obey her.

And he took every cue she'd ever given him. He parented just like her. Because she made it seem so logical and simple and right. Because in practice, it felt right. Of all the things that had gone so very, deeply, irredeemably wrong between them, when it came down to it, parenting had never been one. They were a united front. Always. Small miracle, that.

"Your mum and I are pretty horrible, yeah?" he teased. It was easier to do that, now. Now that Hellie was awake again.

"The worst," Cass replied, giggling a little.

"I only hope Auntie Eleanor and I can be as horrible as your parents are," Louis put in, smiling with one half of his mouth, his eyes sort of distant.

"That will take a lot of work, Tommo," he laughed, "We've got thirteen years' worth of head start."

"Yeah, mum and dad are pretty excellent at being horrible. I don't know if anyone will ever measure up," Ollie deadpanned. He tossed a pillow that his son easily caught.

"Creatins, the pair of you," he said, rustling Cass' long brown locks. "What's with the faraway eyes, Lou?"

Louis shook his head, blinked carefully several times, then smiled at him. "Just thinking about tour. How many kids we'll have with us on this next one. How different it will be from like... thirteen years ago."

"Did you bring us on tour when we were babies?" Cass asked, eyebrows knitting together. "I don't... I don't remember stories like that."

He felt the dark expression transform his face, and tried to fight it. Gave it his all. But that was impossible. He'd been resisting the memories for too long now, and his guard was slipping. Had slipped.

Cass smoothed her fingertips over the lines in his forehead again, pressing outward to ease the creases of sadness, fear, and worry etched there.

"No monkey, you didn't... ehm--" he had to stop and clear his throat. Already. This was going to be awful. "Your mum and I decided it wasn't a good idea to take you on that tour. You were so tiny, like. And you had come early, so your lungs weren't-- we just didn't want to put you on a long flight right away. Anyhow I was only supposed to be gone a short while--"

"Supposed to be?" Yup. There was Ollie hearing even what he hadn't said.

"Originally the tour was just two months, in like, Asia and Australia. But dates got added, and I couldn't go straight to America after, there was business in London and-- and it was nearly four by the time I got back. I dunno. Maybe two months was too long to begin with. But I didn't think I had a choice, and..." He sighed, fighting the urge to justify justify justify. To ramble on forever. With effort, he pulled his voice back in, gained control of it. 

"Sometimes I wish I'd never left at all. But I had a job. Your mother went back to work because she loved her job, and I did the same. I just... worked far away. And maybe I should have been more mature, or brave, should have asked for more time with you, but I didn't, and that's all... That's on me."

"What does that even  _mean_ , Daddy?" Cass asked, sounding distressed. His chest clenched.

"I mean it was my fault. That's time I will never get back, and it did..." He sighed, the words feeling like molasses in his throat. Like it was their job to drag back down, to stay inside him. He'd kept them in for so long. Maybe that was hurting him, too. "It did immeasurable damage to my relationship with your mum. It-- I destroyed my relationship with your mum that way."

Silence hung over them, descended slowly, stiflingly. He'd never felt that before, never understood how silence could loom, or hang, but here... He felt it. He got it. He closed his eyes.

"But you and Mommy are fine. You've always been fine. What's the big deal?" Ollie put in, shrugging.

It was casual, the way Ollie reacted. But it nearly floored him.

Somehow, " _Hey kids, I disappeared for a lot of your early life, and it wrecked my relationship with your mum. So. That's why you have unmarried parents_ ," didn't seem like the kind of revelation that would elicit little more than a shrug. Perhaps because losing Hellie was a defining time in his life. In Cass and Ollie's, too, he'd thought. Perhaps because, for the last decade, he'd carried immense guilt about the ways he screwed up as a partner and parent.

Maybe they were just fresh out of shock. After the last few days, that seemed reasonable.

Or maybe he should have known this would be fine. Trusted his kids to get it. Or to care less about the past. Or.

Or maybe. Maybe it had never been about the kids at all. Maybe this was about the things he'd spent his whole adult life wanting. Things they wouldn't know, couldn't understand.

His shoulders fell outward, blades melting down his back like they were forever trying teach him in yoga class. The sudden release allowed his lungs to expand and contract smoothly as Cass tugged at the hem of his -- err, Hellie's -- shirt, capturing his attention again. He'd been silent for too long. They were expecting an answer.

"I guess we are. Fine, like. But at the time... we were not. I was not fine. We'd promised so much to each other. Seen so much in our future. And then, at the first hint of difficulty, I bailed. It was--"

"Haz, that's not true. You didn't bail," Louis interjected, voice urgent but sympathetic.

"I did, Lou. You don't... you don't know. It-- Maybe that wasn't my intention at first, but I did. I bailed," he pulled a hand through his hair and sighed, "Leaving you kids that first time was hard. Impossible. And yeah. It should have been. But it should have stayed that way, too. Instead I just... let it get easier and easier. That's what I'm ashamed of. I missed you both dearly, but it was so easy to avoid the hard stuff. To not have to feel your mum's hurt, her disappointment, her... her breaking heart. If I wasn't there, it was like I could pretend it wasn't happening. That I wasn't failing her, and you, and..."

"Because you went back to work? It wasn't that simple, Harry!" Louis interrupted him again. "You had us to worry about, too. All of our livelihoods were so intertwined, and we were too young to even, to see around--" he cut off suddenly, glancing at the twins and visibly trying to tamp down on his emotions.

But he could see it. See it like it was yesterday. Canceled weekend visits because he was tired -- like raising twins alone wasn't  _far_  more exhausting -- missed Skype dates, one after the other, with almost no notice. The times he could have asked for meetings to be rescheduled, or for permission to dial-in from New York, instead of sitting in whichever far-flung office management had chosen. 

And he could feel it in his bones. Hellie's growing frustration, resentment, broken heart. The way it was easier to pull inside himself than it was to admit what he was doing. The way it was easier to be busy than it was to be vulnerable, to be wrong, to be bad at something so indescribably important. 

He was in his thirties, now. This was a long time gone. And maybe he needed to forgive himself. But maybe this was the first step to that. These words, out there, between him and his children. Because maybe he needed to just own up to it once and for all.

But that didn't make anything less real. Less bad.

"Because I didn't find a way to be a more supportive partner and parent. Whatever that meant, then. Even if I had to keep leaving," he sighed. "We know a lot more now, Lou. Even when you leave Eleanor with Vivi, you find ways to make sure she never feels  _alone_. 

"Being a parent is about more than just taking care of your kids. It's about taking care of your partner, too," he paused, looking between Cass and Ollie again, less scared of being honest, but still... sorry. Sorry for all of it. "Your mum needed me to be a better emotional support system than I was. And maybe I just wasn't capable at the time, but I can't like... let myself off the hook for that. Yeah. I was young. But I'd made the choices that landed me there, and I'd said... I'd promised I would be there. You can't say that and then just... not. I should have stepped up, I should have learned, I should have become what your mum needed."

"And she should have been more forgiving, Haz," Louis said firmly, defensively. A little bit of his twenty-two-year-old self creeping in around the edges. The one who'd tried so hard to protect him from his love for Hellie. 

"Yes. She should have. But I don't know. I guess what I'm saying is we both had things to ruin." He laughed lightly, the sound a bit sour, "I just ruined things first."

"Why does it have to be your fault?" Cass asked suddenly, voice small but certain, with an undercurrent of... Insistence? Irritation? "Doesn't stuff sometimes just... go wrong? Like in a lot of ways? Too many ways. Don't you and mum tell us that all the time? Why do you have to make it all your fault?"

This time his laughter was big and loud and real. Nothing sour. Just... a relief. Leave it to Cass to pull just the right thread, to make him unwind. She'd always been like that. Since childhood. The one who could change the way he saw everything with a question. She reminded him of Hellie in that way.

"Oh my god, you are your mother's child."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she challenged, crossing her arms.

"It means I know exactly where you got this psychoanalysis bull--," he paused, scrubbing a hand roughly over his tired, smiling face a few times before looking back up at his daughter. "It means your mother would have asked the exact same question. And speaking of, I think it might be time for you two to get some clean clothes on so we can head to hospital and see that mum of yours."

"That's not an answer, Daddy," Cass insisted, shifting in his lap.

"I know. And you're not getting one now, so keep that horrible pout to yourself. Get upstairs and change, you lot! We're off at half twelve, so you've got 45 minutes to eat and get dressed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I am so very sorry for the delay between these last updates. But on the bright side... I've actually now finished the full first draft, so, updates are going to be regular from here on out. Once a week.
> 
> And yet. Here we go guys. The good -- Babies! Hellie's awake! -- and the bad, all at once. Kind of like life. Or, I hope very much it's like life. That's kind of all I ever really want to write about. Things that tease apart something real.
> 
> It always feels so impossible and so important and like the biggest best challenge ever. I always hope I'm coming even close.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this, too. Even when it's sad, or hard, or things get bad.
> 
> It's weird to share something like this serially. Especially when I know how it works out and I wonder how frustrated you must all feel. But anyway. I digress.
> 
> I'm off, for now. I have an early morning and a long day of business travel ahead. 
> 
> More in about a week.
> 
> xxloose


	8. I Knew Things Were Missing But I Was Too Scared to Find Them

* * *

 

 

Everyone was already at the hospital by the time he and Lou and the kids arrived. There were hugs and fist-bumps and hugs again. His mother had very nearly refused to let him go. And when the time came, when he was allowed to take the kids back to see their mum, to talk to her for the first time in four days, he thought for certain his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Just crash through his already weakened ribs and abandon him when he most needed it to be strong. Cass was tucked against her Poppy and Mary-Lou had one eye on Ollie and one eye on him, as if she could sense his fragile state, and he pasted on a smile as he pushed his son toward the hall.

But again -- as ever, as always -- his strength failed as they turned the corner. As the last hall loomed. Silently, he ducked into the toilets, wishing he couldn't still feel Liam hot on his heels.

"What?" he asked, turning to level his gaze on Liam who was only just inside the door.

"She needs to see you there, Haz. The kids need to have you there, too. Now, not later," Liam prodded him, softly, evenly.

"Fucking hell, Li, I know, like. But I need a minute. I just..." he caught Liam's eyes in the mirror and softened. This was no time for a fight. And Liam was right. This was not a time for choices, either. There were none. He had to be there for every moment of this. He'd made himself that promise years ago, when he was tired of fucking it all up. And he'd keep that promise, even now. "Give me two more seconds, yeah? Just two seconds. I'll be out in a second."

"Okay, Haz. I'll wait outside. I'll let everyone go, we'll just... catch up when you're ready."

"Thanks, Li," was all he could manage. 

As the door swung shut, he slumped over, hands coming to rest on the edge of the basin, head hanging loose and heavy and sad. With two massive breaths he gathered himself, ignoring the pain in his ribs, splashing his cheeks with cold water, squaring his shoulders in the mirror. He had this. He could do this. He could push the memories away and look Hellie in the eyes again and not be eaten into dust by his ravenous guilt.

 

*

 

_There was almost no reception here in the toilets. To the point where the call from his mum had dropped easily five times before they gave up completely. And sure. He could have moved. Maybe should have. But there was privacy in this out-of-the-way loo. Privacy he wouldn't get anywhere else in the stadium._

_Yeah. Privacy._

_Curled up in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, Harry thumbed through pictures on his phone, tears gathering into a ball in his throat, threatening to attack the backs of his eyes. Cass. In five days she'd be three-months-old. Her eyes were settling into a murky green, something like his, and she was close, so close, to rolling herself over onto her back. So close it drove her insane, according to Hellie. Rightfully, Harry thought. He'd be annoyed, too, impatient with his own body's inability to keep up. And Ollie. Ollie loved to kick. Hellie said he was trying to bounce on his legs now, when she held him up. That was early. He wasn't supposed to be strong enough for that quite yet. His strong, beautiful boy. The one with Hellie's eyes._

_There were a hundred thousand million pictures in his phone. Hellie sent a trillion every day, trying, ever so hard, to help him feel like he was there. Like he was seeing every breath, every change, every important moment. Today they just made him hate himself. Made him want to pitch the phone across the room with a desperate howl, watch it fall to the floor with a sickening thud. If he were lucky, it would burst into pieces there, on the ground. Or bounce into the toilet and drown. He'd flush it down if he could._

_But more than that, he just wanted to leave. To forget the show and the meetings after the show and the things, all the things he was supposed to be doing so he didn't fuck up his career and ruin every other life that depended on his. He could ruin hundreds of lives if he fucked this up._

_The only lives that went on without him in them were... were the only lives he wished wouldn't. The ones most dear to him. But Hellie. She had it sorted. She'd said it a long time ago -- that should could do this on her own -- and she proved it every single day he was gone. Every picture she sent without him in it. Every milestone she updated him on. They were getting on just fine without him. They would continue to do._

_Harry wanted her to call him and beg him to come home. To the new apartment that was only partially unpacked that he could see in the background of all her pictures. She'd finally let him buy it for her and he'd never seen it and he was beginning to feel like he never would and it was all so helpless. Hopeless. All of this._

_But he wanted desperately to go home, anyway. For Hellie to leave him with no other choice. To tell him, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't give a fuck what anyone else needed, that their family couldn't go on without him anymore. Their family. Family. Family._

_Cass and Ollie. Tiny and gorgeous and changing every single second. Keeping their mother up at night. God. He wanted, so, so much, so desperately, to be there to sing them to sleep. Tonight. Every night. Even if it was four times a night. Even if he was only half-conscious, half-sane, half-on-the-verge-of-tears himself. The Skype chats were just hurting everyone now. He kept doing them because wanted the babies to know his voice, to remember it, to respond to it when he was finally home. But the sound of Hellie's voice... that was what he couldn't take. All the things she wasn't saying._

_In his hand, his phone buzzed. It was Hellie. With a painful hitch of his chest Harry declined the call, dropped his face to his knees, and cried._

 

*

 

He hung back, just a few steps behind the children, leaving an ocean of distance between himself and the foot of the bed as he watched them greet their mother. Ollie had been holding Cass up as the entered the room, but now they had divided, one on each side of the bed -- Ollie's careful maneuver to ensure Cass would not end up on Hellie's injured side not unnoticed -- and he could see in the lines of their muscles how hard they were holding themselves back.

"Mommy," Cass choked, giving in and collapsing over Hellie's hand at the side of the bed.

"Hey baby girl," Hellie spoke, her voice a dry, difficult whisper, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. "Ol," she continued, turning to look at their son, lips beginning to pinch together.

"Mommy," he managed, barely meeting her eyes, silent tears falling down his cheeks. He was white knuckling the bar at the side of the bed with one hand and fidgeting with the edge of the cast on Hellie's right arm with the other. "I missed you," he confessed.

"Oh, sweetie," she sighed.

He bit down on his lip to keep quiet and leaned into his own mum's hand when she rested it on his back, seeking comfort wherever he could. He could see the awful helplessness, the complete confusion on Hellie's face. She had no idea what to say, what to do. Her desire to tug both of her children into an embrace was written across her entire body, but that was impossible. She was far too injured. As he watched, he could actually see Hellie's resentment rising, frustration with her body's inability to be what she needed of it. To comfort her children.

"I love you two so much, I'm so happy to see you," she managed, and he could hear the tears in her throat. Just like the tears in his.

It was then, only then, that Hellie looked up at him. 

The entire world fell away. Meeting her eyes for the first time was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over him, the shock of it washing away layers of tension, of pain, of pure terror. He was wholly unprepared for the physical presence of her gaze, for the way it would press down on him, change his heartbeat, the movement of air in and out of his lungs, the way his shoulders hung.

"Hey," he mouthed, blinking back tears.

"Hey, love," she mouthed in reply before returning her attention to the children.

Eventually, Hellie became too frustrated, too overwhelmed for everyone to stay. He could see her battle, the way she struggled to maintain any semblance of control over her behavior. But she was exhausted. Probably hungry. Teetering on the edge of a sharp, painful mood swing. 

With a meaningful glance at Mary-Lou and a hand at his mum's a lower back, a gentle push toward the bed, he communicated what Hellie needed without her ever having to ask. His mum and Mary-Lou were probably already aware of it, anyway.

"Come along, sweetheart, mum needs some rest," Anne said, reaching to take gentle hold of Cass' elbow.

"Yeah, Ollie, kiddo, let's go get you a snack and a drink and let Mommy rest. We can come back in a little while, after she's had a nap," Mary-Lou added, stepping to her grandson's side and slipping an arm around his shoulders which he allowed.

With another meaningful glance, he hung back, letting both sets of grandparents guide their babies out of the room before stepping up to Hellie's bedside for the first time. For a moment he hesitated at the edge of the bed, not sure what to do with his whole body-- bursting with twitchy energy, with affection, with desperately missing her. But when Hellie held her good hand up, silently grabbing at the air as if to reach for him, he closed the space between them without further thought. Getting as far up the bed as he could, he gingerly seated himself facing her with one leg bent into a triangle by her side and the other hooked over his foot, swinging gently in the sterile hospital air.

"Hey, love," Hellie echoed, resting a hand on his knee.

"Hell," he managed, before a swell of emotion forced him into silence.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Are you kidding me?" he replied, shaking his head, fully shocked. What the bloody hell was she asking him for?

"No, love, I'm not."

"I'm  _fine_ , Hell. I'm fine. How are you?"

"Feeling like I got hit by a truck?" she joked.

"Oh christ," he couldn't help but laugh, "Helen."

"Harry. You look like shit. How badly are you hurt?"

He squeezed his eyes shut -- wishing he didn't have to answer, didn't have to talk about himself at all -- but at the touch of her hand on his they flew open, unbidden. As he answered, Hellie followed his description with her fingers, running them down his side before finding his hand again, taking it into hers and inspecting it carefully. There was a broken bone on the outer part of his hand, and both outside fingers were broken, too. The doctors had splinted and taped his fingers and given him this cast sort of thing, a piece of plastic they molded to the outer half of his hand that was secured with an ace bandage wrapped from his fingers down around his palm and secured at the wrist. For a moment, Hellie futzed with the soft, stretchy fabric. 

"So, nothing--" he cut off, distracted as Hellie ghosted her fingers up the inside of his wrist to caress the unblemished skin there. It was difficult to swallow, to ignore the tightness in his stomach, to keep talking, "I, uh... Nothing major, Hell. Nothing even close to major. Not like..."

He was about to say "you," but suddenly realized Hellie probably didn't need a reminder of the extent of her injuries.  Even on the pain killers, she could probably feel most of them every minute, with every breath. She had broken ribs, too. And a broken arm on the same side. Some cuts on her legs and arms. And then there'd been that swelling in her brain, which had required surgery to reduce. 

But it was her face where Hellie was most... changed. Much of it was covered in tiny cuts, which was slightly less disarming now that they had scabbed over and looked less raw. But it was the right-hand side, where the real damage had occurred. There, a huge portion of her skin had nearly peeled off her face entirely, split open along her hairline from just above the temple down past her ear. The doctors and plastic surgeons had done an amazing job of reconnecting the skin, of stitching it back together, keeping everything as close to her hairline as they could, but there was just so much swelling. And there was going to be a scar. Even with all the plastic surgeon's careful work, there would be a long, thin scar there for the rest of her life.

He felt the overwhelming urge to test Hellie's every wound with his fingers. Make sure the cuts on her face were as shallow as the nurses had promised. Know every detail of every injury on her body. Own them. Because they were his fault. And they were his Hellie, now. A part of her, even if some of them never scarred, never left a permanent mark--they would always be there. He needs to know them all. Heal them all. 

In the silence, as he fought the urge to crowd further into her space, caress her skin instead of finding the words to finish his useless thought, Hellie caught his eye. He tried not to gasp, the cold water feeling hitting him again.

"What do I look like?" she asked, voice strained. "They haven't... No one will... I haven't seen yet, but I can feel, I know. My face is bad. I know it's bad. Please, love, you're the only one... you have to tell me how bad it is."

Looking down, he swallowed slowly to buy himself time. He had to... she had to know. And he couldn't bare to lie to her. Or be evasive. Not when her eyes were pleading with him that way. But fuck. Bloody christ. This was too hard. With a deep breath, he pulled her hand into his lap and squeezed as he began.

"The nurses and doctors and everyone keep promising me it looks worse now than it will later, that a lot of the little cuts are actually pretty shallow, from glass grazing your skin, and they'll heal over nicely, like they were never there. And there's swelling around, or ehm, because of the bigger cut and, and your cheek. So that will go down. That will get better, but..."

"Harry, you have to just... tell me the truth. Please. I need to know the truth."

"Your cheekbone has a fracture, not a bad one, they didn't have to do anything and they said it will heal perfectly, but... yeah. And there's a cut. A big one, Hell. It runs from your forehead down to your jaw. It's mostly in your hairline, or just beside your ear, but when you came in-- I don't... I won't give you all the details of exactly what happened just yet, but it's a long cut. It took them hundreds and hundreds of stitches to close everything up, and... They had a brilliant plastic surgeon do all the stitching, so everyone is saying you'll heal up quite well. But I don't want to-- there will be a scar, darling, there'll be a scar."

Hellie closed her eyes, jaw clenching for an instant before she released it with a hiss of pain. He could hear her breathing deliberately through her nose as tears leaked from beneath her eyelids.

"You're going to look like you, Hell. That's not changing. There will just be a line near your ear. It'll be small, they promised me the plastics doctor was brilliant and the scar will be subtle, that you'll still look just like the Hellie we all know and love and sometimes want to punch in her smart mouth."

"As if you'd ever punch me in the mouth, Harry. You love me!" Hellie joked and rolled her eyes, voice catching in her throat a bit despite her valiant effort at levity.

"Doesn't mean I haven't thought about it, darling," he cheesed at her before falling serious again, reaching out to cup her healthy cheek in his palm. "You're beautiful, Helen Anne, that's not changing."

"Thank you, love."

"I know you only sort-of believe me, and that's fine, but the Hellie McGovern I've known for the last fifteen years was the most beautiful, confident women I've ever met. And I know that things will change. There's no way they won't. They'll have to. But-- but you should know I refuse to let you lose that confidence, so, I'll be reminding you of how beautiful you are pretty frequently, darling."

"I appreciate the sentiment, love, but won't that make your girlfriend pretty jealous?"

"Don't have one of those," he shrugged.

"What about Ms. Jones-Taylor?"

"That's over."

"Well, I've never known you to stay single for long, Harry."

"I think I'm taking a step back from the dating game for a bit, Hell. I'm not in a good place right now."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed clutching at his fingers more tightly.

It was true. He couldn't really pinpoint what was off, but something... was not right. He was drinking too much again. There were too many sleepless nights. And Hellie knew it. The night of the accident wasn't the first time he'd called her for a lift in the wee hours of the morning, too pissed to drive, too lost to even tell her what was going on.

"I wasn't in a good place before the accident and it just... I need a break, I think. I need-- FUCK, I didn't call Craig! Hell, no one called Craig."

"Its okay, Harry," she soothed. He pulled a face. How was it okay that they'd forgotten to call the guy she'd been dating for nearly nine years? Come to talk of it... why the hell hadn't he been banging down the doors? It's not like there weren't near constant reports about Hellie's location in the media. "We've been done for ages, love. It's okay."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?!" he yelped, catching her eyes again. 

"I... I don't know. It wasn't a big thing, I guess? He met someone else, someone he wanted to get serious with, so, our arrangement kind of... ended."

"Arrangement?" He looked at her skeptically. What did that even mean? "Helen, you've been seeing him for like... ever."

"It was always a loose arrangement, Haz."

Funny. He'd never really seen in that way. Quiet? Yes. On and off? Sure. But never loose, or informal. Never an 'arrangement,' always a relationship. One that had lasted almost her entire London life.

"For nine years?"

"Yes, love. I... He didn't care much for kids, and I'd learned my lesson about that a long time ago..."she trailed off. The kids had become a sticking point with Beau, he remembered that. "But there was a certain... convenience to it. Guaranteed date for work functions, someone I trust for a quick shag when necessary-- Don't grimace at me like that, Harry, we're adults."

"I know, but it's so..."

"Pratical?"

"Yes."

"And you're shocked by that? Have you met me?"

"Christ, Helen, yes, I know how pragmatic you can be about sex. If you recall, there was a time when I was just a regular shag for you. Worst weeks of my life, in fact," he paused. He was being too honest. "I just... You've been with him for ages, Hell. I just thought it was more romantic than _that_ , okay? I thought it was real."

"It was real. It just wasn't romantic. I haven't... It's been a long time since I met someone... someone new I felt that way about, and Craig was just--"

"Practical, okay, yeah. No. Not talking about this anymore," he cut her off, looking up at the clock, "Oh, wow, it's... you've been awake and talking for ages now, are you tired? In pain?"

"I've been pushing this nifty little button here, love," she gestured, "So... the pain is manageable. Ish."

"Ugh. You and your fecking pain tolerance. Hell, you need to be careful, okay? And just... don't suffer, okay? Not for us. If you rest, you'll heal faster. That's what we want. We want you to actually _get_  better, not just  _act_  better, yeah? Promise you won't push yourself for us? That you'll rest?"

"Promise, love. I promise."

"Get some sleep, darling," he soothed, running his fingertips over her cheek before rising to his feet. The look in Hellie's eyes -- fear, mingled with a kind of tired sadness -- made it seem nearly impossible to leave, but he knew Hellie needed rest. Hellie needed rest and their children needed attention and he'd see her again in a few hours. He had to go.

"Just so you know, Helen. This is officially ranks as the second most beautiful look you've ever rocked in a hospital bed," he smiled fondly.

She laughed, which was exactly what he had been hoping for. Or at least, part of it. He did mean his statement genuinely, too. But he knew he could deliver the compliment more easily if it was wrapped in a joke.

"Too many qualifiers, love," she replied, still smiling just slightly.

"I mean, okay like. I've only seen you in a hospital bed two times. And the first time-- wow. You were holding our children for the first time and smiling that tired, terrified, overjoyed smile up at me and that's probably the most beautiful you've ever looked in your life. But just because this second place win comes by default doesn't make it any less genuine. I cannot even begin to tell you how beautiful you looked when I saw those eyes of yours again for the first time. I think my heart grew four times in size."

"Like the Grinch?" Hellie asked.

"Like The Grinch. I've been feeling a lot like that guy lately. Except I feel like maybe my anger at the paps is more justified than his stuff with the Whovillians? Or whatever they were called, like," he grinned, half sardonic, and then schooled his face into something more warm, more loving, as he stood to look down at her again. "Get some rest, Hell. I'll bring the kids round again in a few hours."

Without a second thought, he leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across Hellie's lips, then turned to leave without looking back. He couldn't let himself see the look on her face. Wasn't sure he'd survive it. Balling his hand into a fist he allowed himself the space of two long breaths to squeeze his eyes closed and reassemble his face, his guts, his twisted heart into some semblance of normalcy before he had to face their family again.

 

*

 

**_We reckon there's about to be some good news coming out of the Styles camp. If these pics, snapped tonight outside the Whittington Hospital are any indication, Hazza's got something to be jolly about. Look at that arm around our Nialler's shoulders! And that smile! We haven't seen a grin on Hazza's face since news broke about his accident last week._ **

**_We're pretty chuffed to see our Hazza looking less tired and sad -- and hoping to see more happy pics where these came from. No more sad Harry, universe, please! Our little hearts just can't take it anymore._ **

 

*

 

Hellie's back garden was a bit overdue for a trim. He knew the grass was one of Cass & Ollie's chores, but it was more than that. The bushes needed to be cut back and the ivy and roses at the back wall needed some pruning and everything was just generally beginning to look overgrown, haphazard. He should probably call someone. If Hellie didn't have gardeners, he sure did. Tonight, though, he couldn't be arsed. Not even now, knowing Hellie was awake, was conscious and whole and probably headed home soon. Hopefully soon.

"Here you go, mate," Niall said, passing him a bottle of some Blue Point Brewery stout that he hadn't even known was in the house.

"Where'd you even find this?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"I know where Hellie hides the good stuff," Niall supplied, smirking before taking a long pull from his bottle and settling back into a chair.

This was one of Hellie's major indulgences-- near constant supplies of her favorite local beers from home. Blue Point and Brooklyn and Sixpoint and something called 902, from a little place run by an old friend's husband out of Hoboken. He hadn't been around Hellie's place much in the last year or so, had nearly forgotten where she hid stuff from the kids and nosy houseguests. Niall clearly hadn't though.

Niall and Hellie was, in his estimation, one of the most unexpected outcomes of his relationship. A friendship strong enough, close enough, to continue to exist even as his own relationship with Hellie had fallen apart. A friendship that had flourished perhaps  _because_  his relationship with Hellie had collapsed, because he'd spiraled downward into a world of bad behavior that had taken years for him to climb back out of. For a while, Niall had become something of an intermediary for them-- his and Hellie's tie to each other when things were too messy between them. But their friendship had blossomed even after that.

Niall'd never said much about it. Always sort of joked about it being "an Irish thing, mate," before laughing off any more questions. But there had been years where Niall was the one making sure he didn't forget he was a father.  Reminding him that there were some things in the world more important than his broken heart. Years where Niall kept Hellie from dissolving into utter panic about the state of his life. From giving up on him entirely.

Somehow, those two just understood each other. Just felt like family. He'd never begrudged them their affection for each other, even in the darkest of his days, and today, he was eternally grateful for that fact.

"Did you get some time alone with her today?" he asked, tentatively.

"Yeah, mate. I did. Frank and Mary-Lou rang me not long after you. I went round just at the end of morning visiting hours. Can't remember the last time I was so chuffed to see those pretty blue eyes of hers."

He felt like he was choking on the feeling of relief. Hearing Niall say it, articulate even a fraction of what it was like to see Hellie with her eyes open for the first time in days, brought the memory back to him, clear and sharp. Sharp enough to feel like a shard of glass between his ribs.

"Sorry if it's weird that I saw her before you and the kids, like, but--"

"No, no, Niall, it's-- No worries, mate. Sorry, didn't mean to make you think I was upset. I just... I'm so relieved, Ni, I don't even know what to do with myself."

"I was worried about you. Louis said you weren't telling him much, and Li said you went a little mental today and I just... You know, with the shite that happened after you lost Hellie that first time, I..."

"I never felt like I was going to slide back, Ni. Promise. I would've told someone if I did. I've just been trying to stay strong for the kids, and there hasn't been much time for me to unload on anyone myself."

"Okay," he replied, cautiously.

"It was brilliant to see those eyes today, though, wasn't it?"

"Mmm. 'T was," Niall nodded, sipping his beer again, pushing the chair back on its hind legs. "She's been summat like a big sister for longer'n I'd care to admit. Seeing her eyes open brought... She was so still in that bed these past few days, yeah? Lifeless, even though she was alive, like. And Hellie's always so lively. Seeing those eyes again, it was like... all the life came back into the room. ...Ah, bollocks, Haz, stop crying!"

"Ni, I--" he had to stop for a second, wiping at tears, trying to gather his breath back into a regular pattern. "I thought, sometimes, that I'd really lost her this time. That I'd cocked things up so badly I was never going to get her back."

"Harry, you know you didn't do this--"

"I know that, yeah. But it's hard to  _know_  that, like. To believe that. She wouldn't have been in that car if I hadn't been so pissed I couldn't drive. If I'd called a cab or just stayed sober for once, or... But no, I had my precious reputation to think of, I had to keep it under wraps, I had to use Hellie, I--"

"Haz, fuckin' stop it. This is bloody useless. For about a thousand reasons. But most of all, because Hellie is awake. She's awake and her brain is fine and her body is going to heal, and you've got her back."

"But do I, really?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just-- bollocks, this is ridiculous. Nevermind."

"No, Harry, what are you trying to say?"

"Nothing Nialler, just... how was Hellie when you chatted to her this morning?"

For a moment Niall hesitated, as though debating whether or not to press him. "Tired, worried about the kids. Worried about you, Haz."

He snorted. "That's mad. I'll have to disabuse her of that."

For a few minutes there was silence. The rush of cars on the Islington streets a distant soundtrack as he and Niall sipped their drinks. Letting his head drop back, he looked up at the sky for a second, wishing there were stars to be seen. To wish on. To guide him. Hellie was awake and even still, everything felt so uncertain. Unclear.

"I think I'm going to send the kids back to school tomorrow," he mused, sitting up to pick at the label on his beer bottle.

"Did you tell them that?"

"Nah. If I told them tonight, they'd put up a fight immediately. Can you imagine? Hours and hours of whinging. All night and again in the morning. If I just wake them in time to get ready for class, that should contain the whinging nicely."

"Battle strategies for raising teenagers," Niall observed.

"Just wait, Nialler. Rory and Mairead are going to make you want to apologize to your mum and dad like six times a day," he snort-laughed at a memory. "I actually did, once. Ollie had just gone absolutely mental about how it was so unfair for me to ask him to put his dirty plates and shite in the dishwasher as soon as he was done with them, and not a few days later, like. As soon as he was out of earshot I called my mum and apologized. It's like they woke up one day and just went mad. Just lost the plot, and cannot find it again."

"Maybe I'll pack mine off to boarding school as soon as they approach the double digits."

"Yeah, Barbara would be chuffed about that."

"She'd kill me," he chuckled. "So, back to school for the twins, yeah?"

"Yeah. Their schedules have been disrupted enough. And now that Hellie is awake... not much they can do, right? It's just a waiting game for Hellie to be allowed home. Might as well get them back on track. They'll still be able to see her in the evening before supper. I just don't... I want their lives to be as normal as possible with all this. Missing more school is just going to put them behind, make them stand out even more..."

"Makes sense. D'you need me or one of the lads to drive them to school in the morning?"

"Nah, I'll just have a car come round. Ride with them and then swing up to see Hellie after that."

"Anything else we can do?"

"Meet me at hospital for lunch?"

"Sure thing, mate..." Niall dropped his chair back onto all four legs and leaned over to put a hand on his knee. "Anything, mate. We'd do anything. You know that, yeah?"

"I know, Niall. I know. You're our family, Hellie's and mine," he sighed. Willing his eyes to stay dry, his voice to remain even. "I don't even know how we managed it. All of us, not just Hellie and me. I don't know how we don't all hate each other. How things didn't turn out so much worse. There were so many chances."

"I think, if you want it bad enough, you can make anything work, Haz. I think you and Hellie taught us that." Niall stood and reached over to ruffle his hair before draining the beer in one last, long gulp. "That's me. I'm off. I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck with the twins in the morning. And..." he paused, seeming, once again, to reconsider. "And don't fall asleep out here, yeah?"

"Promise, Nialler," he said as he slumped lower in his chair and closed his eyes.

He'd go inside eventually. Check on the kids and bundle himself into Hellie's bed for, christ, hopefully one of the last times. For now, though, there was the rest of this beer. And the sounds of his city around him, to center him and calm him. To stop the racing in his mind, different now than it was yesterday, but somehow kind of the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eight down! Four more to go. I'm glad to have any and all of you along for the ride.
> 
> Eternal thanks to A ([fleetofships](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships/pseuds/fleetofships)) for keeping me sane and the [H/L Summer Fic Exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/HL_summerfest) for keeping me entertained while my brain takes breaks from writing/editing TTR.
> 
> I've had some lovely Qs on Tumblr ([twooldfourthis](http://twooldfourthis.tumblr.com/)) of late, and it's made me realize I should mention this-- I'm totally up for/open to/stoked about answering TTR questions over on Tumblr. I know so very, very much about Harry and Hellie that may never make it into the pages of these stories, and... yeah. Feel free to come ask away. 
> 
> Rock on.
> 
> xxloose


	9. The Whiskey Don't Work As Well As It Used To

* * *

 

Not even four steps in the door to Hellie's new, private room and he was tripping over some cord.

"I see you haven't gotten any more coordinated in the four days I was out cold," Hellie teased, smiling as much as her face would allow, until it got too big and she winced in pain. "It's a good thing that plug wasn't like... keeping me alive."

He fought a laugh, clutching at his sore ribs and pretending to be offended/upset.

"That's not even funny, Hell."

"I beg to differ, love."

Checking his path more carefully, he approached her bedside with a bouquet of peonies and some green shite he couldn't identify if you paid him money.

"We're a mess, you and I, Helen Anne," he said fondly, watching her inhale deeply over the flowers he'd handed her.

"My favorite," she sighed.

"How could I forget?"

He'd seen her bury her face in a massive arrangement at their hotel in Sydney, that first time she'd visited him on tour, and the look on her face had charmed him so much, he'd never wanted to see it go. After that, he'd taken to sending her weekly bouquets of peonies while he was away, a habit that lasted for easily the first year of their relationship.

"You used to send these to me once a week," she smiled fondly, looking up at him over the bouquet she still had her nose pressed into. "I never asked why..."

"Because I loved you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, obviously," she rolled her eyes, "But I mean, how'd you figure out they were my fave?"

"Remember when you came to Sydney?"

"That time after you'd badgered me into admitting that I wanted you to be my boyfriend and not just my fuck buddy?"

"I beg your pardon-- I did no such thing! I never said a WORD about--"

"As if your words have ever been your most dangerous weapon, Styles," Hellie snorted. "I was relatively sure I wasn't going to survive one more pretty pout. Ugh. That one where you bite your lower lip, and... ANYWAY. Yes. I remember Sydney."

"Not long after you got to the hotel, you were nosing about the room, just touching  _everything_  like you always do, and when I came back into the bedroom after letting in room service, I caught you sticking your face in a big bowl of peonies. I was pretty sure I'd never seen you look so ridiculously happy about something so small, and I just... wanted to be the person who kept you that happy."

"Aww, love, that's..."

"I'm a sap, I know," he replied, swallowing down the threat of nostalgic tears. This was not the time.

"You are. I always begrudgingly loved that about you," Hellie assured him, reaching up to touch his cheek softly.

"Now who's using qualifiers?" he teased, biting his lip.

"You are a menace," she replied, rolling her eyes and poking at his lip until he stopped biting on it. "But thank you for the flowers, love. They're beautiful. And for the jaunt down memory lane-- I don't remember much about that hotel."

"That's why you've kept me around so long, innit? I mean, besides the fact that I French braid better than you do. Well. When my hand isn't broken."

Hellie laughed again, the sound beautiful even though it was a little muffled by the way she kept most of her face still. Everything about her face, her voice, her movement was gentler right now, partially muted. But compared to the horrible stillness of her unconscious days, it was such a relief he hardly even noticed.

"I've been on quite a few walks down memory lane these past few days," he offered, slipping down in a chair and propping his feet up on the side of Hellie's bed.

"Oh, really?" she asked.

"Yeah. The kids were in serious need of distraction, as you can imagine, and Cass asked me to tell the story of how you and I met, because you never would."

"The children of divorce, forever playing one parent off the other," Hellie sighed, soft smile still playing at her lips.

"I was in a weak place!" he defended, holding his hands up.

Really, Cass and Ollie never played those kinds of games. Mostly because they never could. For separated parents, he and Hellie spent a lot of time together, with and without their children. And when they weren't together, there were iron clad systems in place for making decisions about the kids. Hellie called them their 'edit-loop.'

"Please tell me you lied your face off."

"I thought we didn't lie to the kids as a rule, Ms. McGovern?" he raised a eyebrow in challenge.

"You did not tell our children we fucked the first night we met, Harry. You did not," she widened her eyes him urgently.

"Oh, I did," now he was laughing.

"STYLES!"

"I also told them about how we kept sleeping together before you would even call me your boyfriend, and how you got oops-knocked-up."

"Harry," she closed her eyes.

"They're thirteen, Hell, not six."

"Still, Harry. I don't... How are they ever going to respect us now?"

"Uhm. Because we made mistakes? So obviously when we tell them to, say, not get knocked up at a young age, we're speaking from experience and not making shit up, like."

"Speak for yourself. I was 30. I should have known better."

He recoiled. "Okay, ouch."

"Sorry, love, I didn't mean it like that, you know I..." she sighed, more heavily this time.

"Look, I'm sorry if I told the kids stories you didn't want them to hear, I was... Hell, I can't-- It's my fault, all of this. I've cocked things up from top to bottom. I landed you in hospital and I had no idea what to do with the kids when we were all scared out of our minds, and yeah, without the edit-loop I maybe made some decisions that you wouldn't have. I'm sorry for that. More than you know. But I can't regret telling Cass and Ollie about us, Hell. Yeah, we did things... unconventionally. But there was some amazing shit in there. We loved each other a lot, we love those kids a lot, we-- You should have heard the way they laughed when they heard about the first time you met the lads, or seen the looks on their faces when I told them about the first time you said 'I love you.'"

"You said 'I love you' that day, too," she offered, extra-softly.

"I know, darling, and I told them that. But to me, that will always be the day you said 'I love you,'" he paused, catching her eye, "By that point, I'd been saying it in my head so long that saying it out loud felt a little... old hat. But hearing you say it? Brilliant."

He offered an affectionate smile that he hoped would inspire one of her own. Instead, Hellie seemed to shrink, to sink in on herself as if attempting to disappear into the mattress beneath her.

"Do they hate me now?" Hellie asked after a protracted silence, sounding more tentative than he'd ever heard her in his life.

"What?! Hell, why-- How could they hate you?"

"Because I broke your heart, I-- I ruined our relationship, and we'd... I never wanted them to know how bad I fucked up, Harry. They love you so much, I couldn't bear for them to know how badly I hurt you. They'd never look at me the same way again."

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, honestly flummoxed.

"Don't look at me like that, love," she intoned, "You remember it as well as I do."

"No, I just-- I..." he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face before sitting up and taking her hand. "I remember it, yes. I just... remember things a lot differently, I guess."

"Oh please," she intoned. "I appreciate your support, love, but there aren't that many ways to remember what I did to you. I left you for another man, that's not like... open to interpretation."

He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his chin to his shoulder and taking one slow breath.

"No, that part I remember the same way."

"So then what the hell are you talking about?"

He had to laugh. Even now, injury-muffled, reclining in a hospital bed, she could cut him to the bone with her tone of voice. She could be so sharp.

"I've always thought of it as my fault."

"What?!" 

Now it was Hellie's turn to be shocked.

"It's not exactly like I was a great boyfriend, or partner, or parent or whatever back then. I left you alone with those babies. I buried myself in work and disappeared for Skype dates and found a thousand reasons -- big and small -- to be gone."

"Okay, maybe? But it's not like the appropriate response to that was to go out and find someone else without talking to you. Harry," the way she said his name was urgent and painful and soft and broken all at once.

"Hellie."

"Are you telling me that you've blamed yourself for our break-up for the last thirteen years?"

"Well, maybe not thirteen years, Hell. I mean, shit. There were at least three years of wallowing wherein I totally blamed you for everything that was wrong with my life, if you recall."

"Oh, I recall."

 

*

 

_"What the fuck are you doing, Harry?!"_

_"Good to see you too, Niall," he rasped, his mouth as dry as the Sahara desert, then stepped aside to allow Niall in without argument, mostly because he knew there was no other choice._

_"You know Hellie and the kids are outside right now, yeah?"  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing out the door. "Don't look so shocked, Haz. She only told you two months ago. You only promised to pick them up at Heathrow."_

_"Fuck," he cursed, trying to avoid Niall's eyes._

_"Bit late for that, mate. She's been calling you for hours. Almost cabbed it over here herself, but that would've been a bit risky, like, with two toddlers and no car-seats." Niall gave his shoulder a none-too-gentle shove. "You reek like a bar at 4 in the mornin, ya spa. Go shower. I'll help Hellie get the little monsters inside."_

_When he came back down from the shower the twins were already in the pen in the sitting room, crawling about and babbling in some nonsense language only they understood. For a moment he watched them fondly, then climbed over the gate to leave a kiss on each tiny, soft forehead, steeling himself to face Niall and Hellie._

_It was his fault, no two ways about that. He knew Hellie was on her way to  meet her boyfriend Beau in Fiji for a holiday. Since her parents weren't available to babysit, and she had a client meeting in London on her way back home, they'd agreed it was best for her to bring the kids over to stay with him. They could see their Nan and Grandad and Auntie Gemma more easily here, too. And everyone was so excited for their visit, fairly chomping at the bit for the uninterrupted time with the twins. For the time without Hellie around to make Harry ugly and sad and angry._

_In fact... that had started the drinking binge last night. Not the time without Hellie, but the time with her. The moments they'd have to be together while she handed off the kids. Four months later and the mere thought of seeing Hellie made his hands shake, his throat constrict. He wasn't over it. Wasn't sure he ever would be. And he certainly wasn't capable of getting through the night without a drink. Or twelve._

_But that was a shitty excuse for forgetting. He was failing again, breaking promises again. Classic Harry._

_He'd barely even set foot in the kitchen when Hellie started in on him, holding a hand up in his face._

_"I don't even want to hear it, Harry. I'm too upset to have a rational conversation about this, and we don't need to be shouting in front of the twins, so just... Tell me this isn't a mistake, Harry. Tell me I can trust you with them alone while I'm away."_

_"Are you serious, Hellie? I overslept. That doesn't mean I can't take care of my own children."_

_"You overslept? Harry, when I walked in here it smelled like you drank an entire bar last night. God knows what else you smoked or sucked up your nose or whatever the fuck it is you've been doing non-stop the last four months. How am I supposed to trust you with our children when you can't even be trusted to come pick me up at the airport on time?!"_

_He let his head drop, burying a hand in his hair while he took a deep breath._

_"I fucked up, okay? Don't you think I know that? But I was alone last night, I didn't have children here to be responsible for, I didn't-- You have to know I would never behave like that with Cass and Ollie here."_

_"I actually don't," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest._

_"What is your deal, Helen? I'm sorry, okay? But let's not act like you don't--"_

_Hellie cut him off abruptly, "You know what. I don't want to hear it. I don't have time for this. We need to go over their schedules, make sure you have everything you need before I get back to the airport."_

_"Leave the fucking textbook I'm sure you've written me, and go, Helen," he waved a hand dismissively. He knew how to care for his children. She knew that. "I'll figure things out just fine. Wouldn't want you to be late meeting your precious Beau in whatever family-unfriendly paradise he's taking you to this time."_

_"This time?! Don't you DARE accuse ME of being an absent parent, Harry. I'm not the one drinking myself into a stupor every damn night of the week am entire fucking ocean away."_

_"I'm done, Hell. Go."_

_"Don't you dare--"_

_"Go," he said, firm but also sort of resigned. Resigned to her anger. Resigned to her heartbreak. Resigned to his aching loss. He didn't want to be around her anymore. He didn't want to feel these things anymore. This. This is why he'd wanted to drink._

_"It's alright, Hellie, I've got this," Niall said, pressing a soothing hand to her back and guiding her out of the kitchen while shooting Harry a quelling look._

_When he returned a few moments later, Harry felt only marginally calmer. Niall looked furious._

_"Harry Styles, you absolute gobshite. I repeat my original question: what the fuck are you doing?"_

_"I'm fine, Niall. I turned the alarm off in my sleep and the phone was on silent, so I never heard her calls. I wasn't that fucked up last night. I wasn't," he insisted._

_"Why did you get drunk at all? You knew you had an early morning."_

_"Because I knew I had to see her, Ni, I--" he ran a shaky hand through his hair, took a watery, unsteady breath. "Seeing her is like being broken all over again. Every time. I needed to forget for a little while. Just long enough to get to sleep."_

_"Haz," Niall said affectionately, furious glare long gone. Carefully he approached, pulling Harry down into a hug. "This is a totally fucked up way to deal, you know that, yeah?"_

_"I know. I'll... I'll stop. This week, even. This can be like, when I get my shit together. No matter what Hellie thinks, I would never, never put Cass and Ollie in danger. You know that, right, Ni?"_

_"'Course I do, Haz, 'course I do." Niall stepped out of the embrace. "Why don't you make yourself some brekkie while I go play with those monsters in the sitting room for a bit? I haven't seen them in absolute ages."_

_"Thanks, Ni. Seriously."_

_"It's nothing, Haz. Now go, eat. You are going to need to be sober as fuck to deal with those two if the stories Hellie's been telling me are any clue."_

 

*

 

"I didn't tell them, by the way," he offered, changing the subject, desperate to escape the memories of the years after Hellie had gone.

"Didn't tell them what?"

"About the breakup. I didn't get that far. It was-- I was just telling them about when they were born," he felt a fond smile drift across his lips, "I'd only just gotten through all the shit I fucked up right after they were born. So, your story is safe. We don't ever have to tell them if you don't want to."

"What? And let them think that you were at fault? Absolutely not, love. Those kids adore you, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"You know what, Hell? The weird thing about all of this is... I think we've been kind of scared of nothing. When I unloaded all of my guilty conscience stuff on them, Ollie straight up shrugged at me and was all 'what's the big deal, dad?'"

"Like I said, love, they adore you."

"No, Hell, it's not that. It's like... I dunno. They kind of don't care. Or they do, because they think it's interesting, like reading a good book. But they don't see it as this horrible thing in their life," he paused and Hellie allowed him silence, and time to continue. She always knew. "I've... I've spent my entire adult life feeling guilty for what I did to you. How I pushed you away. How I left you alone with those two beautiful children, just fucked off and kept hurting you and them over and over again. For years. But they don't remember any of that. All they remember is having two parents who love them, who show up for football games and check their assignments and plan pretttty epic birthday parties every year," he finished, a grin he couldn't hide sliding cross his lips, they threw excellent parties.

"We do throw an excellent party," Hellie remarked, reading his mind.

"What I'm saying is like... they're happy kids. And they don't remember us being unhappy parents. So maybe we fucked each other up for a while, but we didn't fuck them up. That old stuff that we're so scared of? It's meaningless to them. Ancient stories about boring old people."

"You think?"

"I do," he affirmed. "Hell, I think we should keep telling the stories. I think they want to hear more. And I think then, you'll see. It's not hurting them like we thought it would."

"I guess," she sighed, blinking very slowly.

"Did you just get another dose of meds?"

"Yeah," she replied, yawning without opening her mouth much.

"'S'making you sleepy, huh?"

"Mhmm."

"Go to sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up," he said, brushing a kiss to her knuckles and sinking back in his chair. He could do with a nap himself.

 

*

 

_**Not to rub it in, but we were right! Our Hazza hazza some good news for us -- former WAG and baby momma Hellie McGovern is on the mend. No word on when she'll be leaving hospital, or what her injuries are like, but hey, anything that puts a smile like that on Hazza's face is a plus in our books.** _

_**Haz was seen sneaking off to lunch with 3/4 of his bandmates -- no word on where Mr. Malik was at the time -- just hours ago. Look at that jolly face! Nialler, Louis and Payno weren't looking so bad themselves as they leaft the Whittington Hospital and headed off to tuck into food at the Garden Gate in Hampstead.** _

 

*

 

"Mmmm, cheekbones," Hellie murmured, slowly waking.

"Cheekbones?" he asked.

"I think she's asking after Zayn, mate," Niall supplied.

He froze, blanching as his stomach lurched strangely. It wasn't that Zayn, happily married Zayn, was a threat, precisely. Or that he even felt threatened, because that would be ridiculous, given everything that'd gone on thes past few days. Everything that was  _still_  going on. It was just... He'd expect Hellie to wake up asking after the twins. Or him. Not... Not inhumanly beautiful Zayn, his mate, who Hellie has...

"Was here, when I fell..." She trailed off, reaching up to rub a hand over her sleepy face, just about to make contact when she saw the IV in her hand, when she seemed to remember the state of her injuries. Now it was Hellie freezing up.

The air in the room seemed to become thin, tightly stretched. He wasn't sure why he felt so... strung up. Why he couldn't just take Hellie's hand and soothe her as she battled with whatever she was feeling just then-- fear or anxiety, sadness or loss.

"Hey lads, sorry I missed lunch, Pez needed me to call up to the studio," Zayn said, entering the room with a tiny cup of hospital coffee clutched in his hand, oblivious to the tension he'd shattered, "Hey Hellie, how was your nap?"

"Good," she whispered.

"Did you sleep a lot while I was gone, darling?" he asked, finally stepping forward to take her hand in his. 

"Yeah, talking so much s'morning made me tired," she replied, voice still hush, smile sleepy, dazed.

"You know you don't have to talk to me, yeah? Any of us. We just want to keep you company."

"Speak for yourself, mate, I'm not sitting here just staring at this bird while she sleeps," Louis teased, easing the last of the tension with a chuckle. He shot Louis a glare anyway. "Joking, joking!"

"How are you feeling, Hellie?" Liam asked, draping an arm around Louis' shoulder and leaning toward the bed.

"Really, really medicated," she sort-of-giggled.

"You scared the absolute shite out of us, missus. Haz here was actually crying public," Liam teased.

"Was not!" he defended, then felt Hellie's withering glare. "Okay, okay, fine. I cried in public. Kind of a lot. You scared the shit out of us!"

She was smiling for real now, much as she could. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Hellie. I think Haz here needed a good scare," Louis put in, poking him in his sore ribs.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"My version of a meaningful glance," Louis shrugged.

He had no idea what was going on, but it seemed everyone else in the room did. Or at least, all his mates did. Hellie seemed kind of baffled too. But she was on a ton of drugs, like. Opiates probably.

"Anyway, I'm glad to see you're up and about, as it were," Louis begins, "I've got to meet Eleanor at the doctor, for, eh-- well, I really just popped in to say hi and give you a kiss, before I had to go. I'll bring the girls round tomorrow if you're up for it, yeah?"

"I'd love that, Louis. I haven't seen Eleanor in a century," Hellie paused, as if considering something, "But you don't have to drag everyone out here if you think... if you're worried that seeing me like this, in the hospital, will be upsetting for Vivi."

"I think this is a pretty good time to introduce Vivi to the hospital, actually. Eleanor will be so excited to see you awake that it'll be a happy visit, not a sad one."

"Good," Hellie grinned a tiny grin. 

They were a funny crew, the One Direction WAGs. And former WAGs. Tied together because only they knew what it was like to be on the inside, women who probably never would have found each other any other way.

A tiny ping sounded.

"That's me," Liam said. "Promised Abby I'd take her on a proper date, like. Should probably go home and wash up."

"Go, boys, no explanations needed," Hellie said, waving them off.

"Love you," Niall said, pressing a kiss to her hand before stepping back and letting the rest of the lads say goodbye.

"Perfect timing," Zayn said as he reached the door, crossing paths with the twins and reaching out to ruffle Ollie's hair and drop a kiss to the top of Cass' head.

"Hi Uncle Zayn," Cass said.

"Hey, baby girl. See yas tomorrow, yeah?" Zayn replied, continuing on his path out the door.

"Mhmm," Ollie mumbled, head down.

"You okay, monster?" Hellie asked, waving one more goodbye to the lads over Ollie's shoulder before reaching for his hand.

"I'm fine, Mommy, stop calling me that," he groaned, shaking his shoulders as if something horrible had been crawling over them.

"Never!" he teased, wrapping his son in a huge, totally unwelcome hug.

"Ugh, Dad!"

Cass laughed as Ollie shrugged away from him uncomfortably before proceeding toward the bed where he sheepishly took his mum's hand and whispered a hello. Talk of school days followed. It felt good to talk of normal things. Of the things kids should be talking about -- upcoming exams and horrible teachers and the football team's prospects next season -- instead of a painful present, instead of ancient history. 

He took a moment to hang back. To watch as the twins interacted with their mum, eyes flashing with enthusiasm, darkening with exam-related anxiety -- they were their mothers children, there, for sure, always worried about getting the highest score, as if nothing else could possibly do -- laughing as Cass teased Ollie about the fit boys on his football team. As if Ollie would ever want to know who Cass thought was fit. 

He'd always loved to see his children interact with Hellie -- all three of them shined brightest, then. But there was a whole new color to their interaction now -- a brilliant shade, shot through with silver, like Hellie's tapestry of hair -- now that he'd lived a few days imagining he might never see this again.

"Sorry, monkey, what?" he asked, shaking himself out of his reverie, returning to the room where his daughter was tugging on his hand, asking him for something.

"I said, 'Will you tell us the next story?'" she rolled her eyes as if she were the most put-upon thirteen-year-old on earth.

"You're awfully excited to get to the sad stuff," he laughed. 

"Come on, Daddy."

"Fine, fine. But the next story is your mum's to tell. I promised I'd let her take the lead here."

"Whatever, like," Ollie said, trying to affect aloofness, apparently unaware his posture gave him away completely-- he was as riveted to the stories as Cass.

"This one is the one I never wanted you guys to hear," Hellie sighed.

"We already heard the one-night-stand story, mum," Cass teased. Hellie groaned.

"I still can't believe you just told them the truth, love," she said, turning her face up to catch his eye.

"Again, I remind you of our collectively-agreed-upon strategy of never lying to our children," he teased.

"Are you sure I was present for that agreement? Because it sounds like a horrible idea."

"Oh, you were there. In fact, I think the idea was yours. Which, come to think of it, makes sense. You always were a font of horrible plans."

"Hey! Just because we got caught that  _one time_ , doesn't mean I am horrible at planning."

"Got caught doing what?" Ollie asked, totally abandoning his pretense of disinterest and sitting up straight in the chair he'd dragged up to the bedside.

"Aaaand it's time for a new subject, darling."

"You just said you can't lie to us!" Ollie exclaimed, indignant.

"Didn't say we couldn't avoid questions entirely, though, lad."

"Dad."

"Trust me, Ol, you do not want to hear that story."

"Oh, ew! Ew. Dad!"

"Hey, who asked the question?"

"Stop it, you guys. Just tell us the next story," Cass cut in, swinging her legs up so her feet rested in Ollie's lap.

"Be gentle, Hell, this was one of the worst days of my entire life," he chided.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding sort of shocked, and sort of teasing, but somewhere underneath, just a little bit injured, too.

"Sorry, not sorry," he grinned down at her, squeezing her hand fondly and hoping she understood that for all it's truth, this was a joke, too. That joking about it would help him, somehow. Her and the kids, too, hopefully. Like some indication that for all the awful, useless pain there had been, everything was alright. Everything was forgiven, now. At least for him. It was a feeling he wanted for her too.

 

*

 

_Hellie looked tired.  She was sitting at the kitchen table, one knee pulled up to her chest, flipping listlessly through an issue of The New Yorker that was easily six months out of date, and she looked, for all the world, like she'd just woken up. Like there should be pillow-creases in her cheek, sleep sand in the corners of her eyes for him to thumb away lovingly before kissing the tip of her nose. But there was none of that. Because she'd been awake for hours. For hours on hours. Feeding and diapering and soothing tiny tempers. Watching Harry as he monitored tummy time, as he tugged affectionately on a breast-feeding child's ankle and kissed the top of her head._

_Harry thought she looked beautiful this way, though he knew she'd argue with him. Complain that her hair was lank and her clothes were covered in spit-up and her tits were aching. But he loved her in that old nursing top and cut-off trackies (the ones he was pretty sure once belonged to him). He loved her in them even when he hadn't seen her in anything else for days -- Hellie, who was so perfectly polished in all of his memories._

_There was something about the moment he loved, too.  It's easy realness. It's groundedness. It made him wonder what he'd been hiding from for so many months. What he'd been worried about. Because this was a place he adored._

_Smiling to himself, he wondered what Hellie would look like in another nine months. Or nine more after that._

_He wanted to tell her he'd started dreaming about their future again this weekend. Stopped being so scared of this minute to minute part of their lives. Stopped wondering if he could do it -- be a popstar and a parent at the same time -- and started imagining all the amazing things he could offer his family. This family. The one he'd chosen. The one he'd made._

_It was the perfect time. The twins were asleep, and they were alone._

_Harry didn't need to glance at the baby monitor to know the twins, each in their own crib, would be positioned as if they were still wound together, bodies resting in corresponding poses. To know Ollie, bigger than Cass now, and more dominant, would be asleep with his arm flung wide, hand reaching for Cass. Even just the thought made him want to reach for Hellie in the same way. Instinctively._

_Still, he glanced briefly at the monitor just once, gazing down at his beautiful babies, making sure things were as he expected. That he and Hellie would have some time yet. Both kids were out like lights._

_He wanted to make the most of it, this moment. No more time spent imagining what Hellie would look like in nine months or nine years. Not when she was right there in front of him -- alone and beautiful -- not when the clock was ticking down the minutes and seconds until the twins would wake again. When everything would become about the two of them. Keeping them happy and safe and fed and aware, every single instant, of how very loved they were._

_An egg popped in the pan in front of him and pulled Harry out of his reverie. Here in reality, breakfast was nearly ready. He needed plates._

_"More coffee, Hell?" he asked, finally placing a steaming plate of eggs and beans and toast and mushrooms before her._

_"No thanks," she said, looking up just enough to make it easy for him to steal a kiss before returning to grab his plate and mug from the work-surface behind him._

_"This is really nice, Harry," Hellie said a few minutes later, something about her energy changing before his eyes._

_"It's nothing, Hell. S'least I could do," he offered, reaching for her hand with the aim of brushing a kiss across her knuckles._

_When Hellie resisted, tugged her fingers back to escape his lips' attention, he looked up, ready to tease her. The distance in her eyes pulled him up short._

_"Hell? Everything alright, darling?" he asked, and when her eyes didn't focus, didn't soften when she looked at him, his heart started racing of it's own accord._

_"No, Harry, I--" she paused, putting her fork down and reaching out for him, trapping his hand between hers and the table in a way he thought was probably supposed to be affectionate, but instead just felt empty, perfunctory. "I met someone."_

_"You what?"_

_"I met someone else, Harry. I've been fighting it for a long time, but I-- I can't anymore."_

_The silence was expansive. Was the product of all the air being sucked out of his lungs, this room, the entire city of New York. He moved his lips -- to speak? to breathe? -- while Hellie watched him, expectantly, but he couldn't make anything happen. Nothing was working. Nothing was working._

_"Say something, Harry," she pleaded._

_Like she had any right to plead. Shouldn't he be the one doing that? Shouldn't... shouldn't he breathe? Wouldn't that help stop this feeling like his lungs were on fire, like his body was going to give up on him forever?_

_"I don't understand," he began, every word feeling like a knife tearing through his throat._

_"There's not much to understand, love. I just... fell for him. You were gone, and he was here, and it was so big, so huge, that no matter what I did, I couldn't stop it."_

_It was the way she said it. The way her tone of voice was so... plain. So matter-of-fact. So carefully unaffected. It was the way she called him "love" just as she was telling him she didn't love him anymore._

_"Nope," he said, pushing back from the table in a rush to get away, to fill the horrible vacuum of empty space around him, to stop the ringing silence that was making it hard to think._

_"I know you're upset, I understand--"_

_"Upset, Helen? UPSET?!"_

_"Harry, please, the twins."_

_He laughed, a little bitter, a lot hurt. Sure. Waking up the twins. He was a horrible person and parent for not thinking of them first, here, in this moment. No wonder she was leaving him._

_"So you're... You're leaving me? That's just... it?"_

_"I... I guess so."_

_"You're leaving me, and you've known for days or weeks or... and you just let me come here and make a fool of myself for the past few days. Playing house, like. Thinking about how perfect our family could be. Is. And the whole time...?"_

_This time Hellie was the silent one._

_"That must have been a right laugh. Look at Harry, silly child, thinking he could be the perfect guy, pretending he has any place here!"_

_"No, Harry! I didn't! I wouldn't, you know that!" Hellie flapped her hands uselessly._

_"I don't know anything, Helen. I... The woman I thought I knew, the one I thought I was making breakfast for this morning, she loved me. She wouldn't do this to me. To us. To our kids."_

_"Don't you see, though? That's exactly why I have to do this, Harry."_

_"I'm sorry, what?"_

_"We have children together, Harry. That's... that's the most important thing. It's the most important thing. Our relationship, it has to be about them. And staying together, just because they exist... trying to force this thing, this thing that's been broken for months, it would do nothing but hurt them. You and I would only get more and more unhappy... It'd be toxic for our children. We have to think of them first, Harry," she was pleading again. On the verge of tears, as if she was the one being dismissed._

_"Forgive me, Helen, for struggling with-- With this load of_ bollocks _. Using our children as some twisted excuse for cheating on me? Who even are you? What are you doing?"_

_"I never cheated!"_

_"You expect me to believe that when you're leaving me for another man?" he scoffed bitterly._

_"We never cheated. I never let him-- We never-- I wouldn't. We haven't been..." she paused searching for the right word, as if there was a right word in this moment. For some god awful reason he let her. "Intimate yet."_

_"Semantics, Helen Anne," she looked up at him, stricken. "Sex isn't the only way to be unfaithful."_

_"Okay, fine. You're right," she closed her eyes, heaved a sigh, rubbed at her temples before looking up at him again, less wildness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am. I never meant for this to happen, Harry. I feel horribly. But this thing with Beau... it's just so easy and natural, so... so right. It just made me realize that what's been going on with you and I is... It's fallen apart, love. It's been broken for a long time."_

_"I know that I've made some mistakes, Hellie. I won't lie about that. But I want to fix them. Because I love you. I've never stopped loving you. And I..." It was like saying the l-word had deflated him. Had reminded him of all he was about to lose. Had already lost. "Please, Hellie, you can't... you can't just not love me anymore."_

_"I do love you, Harry. I always will. I just don't love you the right way. Not for this," she gestured between them. "If we stay together. If I drag this out, I'll only end up hurting you more. And I can't-- I couldn't live with myself if I did that. If I made this any worse than it is."_

_His heart. He was sure it had fallen out of his chest. Plummeted to the floor at her feet where it pulsed feebly, humiliated, losing the will go on with each diminishing beat. The silence was ringing again. Louder now. Deeper, too, like the sound was traveling through water. He felt very far away._

_"I know it doesn't seem like I'm doing this for you. But I am. I am. I respect what we've had too much to... to do it the disservice of letting it languish, or of being untrue."_

_"I wish I knew what to say to you right now. How to make you see that... I don't even know," he closed his eyes. "I want this moment to be over. I want to wake up and realize that this has all been a horrible nightmare and kiss you good morning and ask you to marry me and live the life I saw for us not fifteen minutes ago."_

_"I'm sorry, love."_

_"Please don't call me that anymore. Not when it's clear I'm anything but your love, Helen. I can't take another second of it."_

_"Okay," she whispered._

_"So. Alright. This is over. And that's just... that's all there is to it, then."_

_"I'll always love you, Harry. You're the father of my children, and I cannot ever thank you enough for bringing them into my life. I want us to be great parents. They need both of us, and that's why--"_

_"Please, Helen. Don't give me more of this rubbish about how Cass and Ollie need us so you're ending our... our romantic relationship to save our relationship as parents. I will quite possibly vomit all over your shoes," he was getting worked up again. Feeling unsteady, wild, as something new flooded his veins. "I'm also starting to feel incredibly fucking angry, so... I'm going to bugger off before I do summat I'll regret. Don't ring me for a while. I know we have a lot to sort out with those two," he gestured in the direction of the twins' bedroom, "but I need some time before I'm capable of rational conversation. So. I'm going to go drink myself into a stupor somewhere and hope I don't cry myself to sleep. Have a great night with your new Beau."_

_Somehow, he found just enough composure, just enough strength, to channel his anger into productive motion. To propel himself the bedroom to grab some of his belongings, and back out the front door. As he pounded the call button for the lift repeatedly, he tried to erase the small, sad, crying version of Hellie he'd seen just as he walked away. She didn't deserve his sympathy. She'd just broken his life apart._

 

*

 

"I don't remember Beau," Cass mused, breaking a long moment of careful silence.

"I'm not very surprised. He... wasn't big on kids. Beau and I met at work. He was much older than me, and he'd already done the whole wife-and-kids thing, so he kind of steered clear of you guys," Hellie released a soft, bitter laugh, "I should have known better. But I was just... swept up. He was the George Clooney of the start-up world in New York and I was charmed stupid."

"And that's it?" Ollie asked.

"What's it?" he turned to face his son, giving Hellie's hand an affectionate squeeze where it was clasped in his.

"I mean. That was just... it. Like, you and mum were just not together anymore and it's been like this ever since?" he pointed between them, looking pointedly at their hands.

"That was it for us, yes," Hellie offered cautiously.

"Things have not always been like this," he added, "I was..."

"Your dad was pretty upset. It took us a while to get here," she held up their hands. "I just... hurt your dad a lot. I take all of the blame for it. For us and for what happened after us and for how long it took us to get here. That's why I never wanted you kids to hear these stories. I was so afraid you'd think I could walk away, or hurt you guys in the same way. Or that I could hurt your dad again someday. I didn't want you to live with that fear. Not like I did."

"Hell," he said, stopping when he thought better of having the rest of that conversation in front of their children. Instead he tried to communicate, with the heat of his gaze, just how wrong he thought she was, just how much he would want to say with her later. She smiled back, softly, resignedly, and quirked a shoulder. He rolled his eyes. "How are you feeling? Ready to sleep again? That was a lot of talking."

"Tired," she replied, "But I'm fine. Please don't... I'm not ready for you to go yet."

"What if I took the kids out to get a takeaway and then we came back here for dinner? You could nap while we're gone."

"Mmm, that might be okay," she said, failing to stifle a yawn.

"Thought so," he smiled, catching her pressing the button for another dose of morphine as he leaned in to leave a kiss on her cheek. "Let's go, you two. You can pick the restaurant."

Cass and Ollie kissed their mother and then squabbled their way out to the hall, each preferring something different for dinner. He had a feeling this food-run would involve multiple stops. Which was just fine by him. He wanted some time alone with the kids, time to check in on how they were feeling about their mum and her health, time to let them be rowdy kids again. But most of all, he wanted Hellie to rest. She had a lot of healing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might be dying of sinus congestion, because that is actually a thing, so I'm going to just let this here little chapter speak for it's ownself, and all it's (little) things.
> 
> But hi, thanks for reading! I'm glad you have you here with me and Harry and Hellie and the twins. 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying. Even when it's sad.
> 
> More next week!
> 
> xxloose


	10. Take A Breath Girl and Dry Your Eyes

* * *

 

After so many days surrounded by family, it was eerie to be in Hellie's house alone. He'd been there all morning, tidying while Hellie spent some quiet time with her parents and the kids, and at first the privacy had been a bit of a blessing. Had given him a moment to center himself amidst the continuing chaos of his life. But now he was beginning to feel guilty. Sure, Hellie had visits from Eleanor and Vivi -- and possibly Abby, too -- scheduled around lunch, and his parents and Gemma were planning to weasel some time in there, too. So really, Hellie was plenty busy. And he knew that. But it didn't stop him from feeling at least 85% rubbish about missing more than half a day at her side.

It was just... the house needed tidying. After six days in hospital, two and a half of them completely stabilized, the doctors were planning to discharge Hellie that evening. And even with Frank there to help keep the place clean -- the man would honestly toss your car keys in the bin if you left them out too long -- things needed doing. Especially in Hellie's room. Sheets needed changing, his clothes needed to be bundled into a bag and out of her space, candles needed to be burned to make the stale scent of anxiety and old tears dissipate. He knew things would never be perfect when Hellie got home, but he wanted them to be better. To be comfortable and easy. Hellie had her own self to worry about. He didn't want her dealing with smelly sheets or a largely empty fridge.

He was staring blankly at Hellie's freshly changed bed when the buzzer suddenly rang, giving him a proper fright. He couldn't imagine who it might be -- he wasn't expecting anyone and the kids and Hellie's parents had keys anyway -- but he was pleased to see Gemma at the door when he finally made it downstairs.

"Gemma Anne, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I volunteered to take the first round of flower arrangements home," she began, hitching a thumb over her shoulder and pointing to her car near the curb. "Come help me carry this shite in, will you?"

He stared at her blankly for a second. There was more. Something in her tone told him there was more. He raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, and I haven't had a proper chat with my traumatized baby brother in days, so, I was willing to take any opportunity to ambush you," she confessed with a cheeky grin before popping a kiss on his cheek. "Now come along and help me haul pots of flowers, will you? There's a good lad."

Harry sighed, but together they made quick work of distributing the four arrangements Gemma had transported about the house, before putting the potted tree thing in the back garden, where it might possibly survive. He didn't know much about plants and neither did Gemma, but Hellie certainly knew and cared about a thousand percent less, so if the tree thing died in the garden, she wouldn't be heartbroken. In fact, given the fact that Hellie had the world's blackest thumb, she'd probably just see it as a relief.

By the time Gemma finally got to her point, they were lounging in a sunny patch of grass with a cup of tea, chatting idly about the weather and their mum's new hair style.

"Anyway, what's the deal with you and Hellie?" she asked, sitting up and making sure to hold his eye contact.

"What do you mean 'what's the deal with me and Hellie?'" he replied. Gemma just stared at him evenly, head cocked to the side. He knew she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, but he was serious. "No, I'm being serious. It's not like anything with me and Hellie has changed in the last ten years."

"Forgetting the fact that like... that's kind of my point, you absolute tit, you've been in a right state since she went into hospital."

"And?"

"You're hardly acting like someone who's ex-girlfriend was hurt."

"She's not just my ex-girlfriend, and you know it," he insisted, feeling frustration rise in his veins as color flooded his cheeks.

"So what is she, then? That's what I'm asking."

"She's the mother of my children," he began. Gemma scoffed. "I don't want to give you this douchey 'someday you'll understand' shite, Gems, but it's true. That changed everything for me," he took a careful sip of tea, trying to stay calm. "I'm not capable of forgetting, or-- or unfeeling what it was like to go through that with her. Or what what we've been through these last 13 years because of it. Maybe some people are, but I'm not. And she's my best mate, besides."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "You called Frank and Mary-Lou your 'in-laws' the other day. Like, repeatedly."

"Well they are, aren't they?" he asked, not entirely sure what she was implying.

"You never got married."

"Doesn't mean they're not a huge part of my life, yeah? 'In-laws' is easier to say than 'Ex-Girlfriend-Slash-Baby-Mama's Parents' anyway," he teased. Gemma did not appear amused.

"You didn't say 'former.'"

He was silent for a second. It was true, but he'd not... attached a lot of meaning to it. They were just... right there.

"Fucks sake, Gems, I dunno, I didn't think about it. They're right here."

"It's not normal," she insisted, an edge of distress creeping into her voice.

"Hellie and I have never been normal," he replied evenly.

"This is not normal for even you, Harry," she heaved a sigh. "You've been... I dunno. The last year or so you've been different about her. This last few months especially. She's around more. You're finding more excuses to need her."

"She's my best mate, Gems. I don't see what's wrong with--" he cut off as she held up a hand.

"And now, you're all... I thought if we lost Hellie, we were going to lose you too. And now, the way you look at her, the look in your eyes when someone says her name... You're my baby brother, Haz. I've known you all your life. It's different now. And I'm just... don't fall back into her. Please," she pleaded.

He opened his mouth as if to respond and Gemma paused, waiting, but he found there was nothing he could say. Instead he just scowled at her.

"You know I love Hellie, Harry. You know I do. But she's bad for you."

At that, he was stunned into complete silence, his brain having stuttered to a complete halt. For a few moments, or maybe like, a decade, he just sat there, jaw flapping around dead air. He hadn't even considered...

A ringing sound cut the air, slicing the moment in two and he had to fight to hide the relief on his face. He just didn't have an answer.

People had always thought his relationship with Hellie was weird or bad or both. And he'd never cared. He'd never even allowed himself much time to analyze it. Because... because hadn't Frank said it just the other day? That it was none of anyone else's business anyway? They had children to raise. They just... they had what they needed between them to do that right. And fuck everyone else for thinking they had any clue what that meant. Or should look like.

He scrambled to his feet, leaving Gemma and the tea behind and dashing into the house to answer the phone.

 

*

 

**_Harry Styles: Brokenhearted, a Boybander Grows Up_ **

**_Styles looks haggard when he slips into our booth at the Empire Diner. There's no two ways about it. Tired and coming down, his sweater doesn't fit quite right, and the sort of cheeky, Muppet-Babies-meets-Keith-Richards vibe he wore so well in months past now seems ill-fitting, too. He's aged. And not in a good way._ **

**_He's all charm, of course. And if you close your eyes, at first, it's almost as if no time has passed since he broke onto the scene (at the age of sixteen), or released his last record with One Direction (when he was twenty). He's still the bright young thing of your memory. Of the world's memories._ **

**_Today, Styles is approaching the ripe-old age of twenty-two, and in addition to being one fifth of One Direction, who continue to maintain their stranglehold on the boyband market, he's become one of the industry's most in-demand songwriters. As a result, he's taken on an even bigger role in the song-writing process for One Direction's long-awaited (twice delayed) and self-titled fifth album, due to hit shelves this March._ **

**_When I mention the change, Styles scoffs into his Irish Coffee. "I've had a few things to write about lately, yeah?"_ **

**_And it's true. In the last two years, which he's spent largely on the road, Styles has released two albums and a concert movie, ended two high-profile relationships, and become a father to twins. In the two years before that he released two more studio albums and two more movies, went on two more tours, and dated a slew of famous women including Taylor Swift._ **

**_"To be honest, for me, the stuff I've been through in the last year or so, that's a hell of a lot more inspiring than the summer-love shite they wanted us to write about on records past. So I guess that's part of it. And I guess the label just figured I'd already fucked so much up there was no reason to make us hide it anymore. So maybe I ought to thank Hellie for that. For dirtying me up and kicking the pedestal out from under us, so we could write what we wanted. And, you know, for shitting all over my heart -- that gave me a fair few things to say."_ **

**_Styles hasn't spoken much of his relationship with Hellie McGovern in public. When they were together McGovern -- a New Yorker and Creative Director 10 years his senior -- tended to shy away from cameras. And though they never hid their involvement from the press or paparazzi, Styles generally sought to keep the details private, even around their shocking, unplanned pregnancy._ **

**_But there's been no edict from a publicist to stay away from his private life, no list of questions I'm supposed to avoid, and so I go for it-- I ask him to expand on his comments about McGovern. Of course, I'm also expecting him to demure, as usual. It's early in the interview, after all._ **

**_Instead he opens up, telling me about their split -- which happened three months ago -- and how he hadn't seen it coming at all._ **

**_"That was all Hellie," he begins, looking at his hands and fiddling with the ring on his middle finger. "I was looking at diamonds, planning to propose, the whole lot. Never wanted to be with anyone else again. Imagine my shock when I found out she'd been seeing someone else behind my back. Some wanker she works with."_ **

**_Maybe it's the whiskey talking, hitting him harder than he had expected. Or maybe Styles was just looking for the chance to unload. To be as honest in person as he has been in these new songs._ **

**_"Finding out-- I was gutted. It made me question everything I thought I'd known for the past two years. If she could hide that from me, what else had she been hiding like?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before continuing dryly, a sardonic grin twisting his once pretty face, "But hey, at least the lads and I got half an album out of it. There was enough for another few songs for Ariana [Grande] and Gavin [Degraw], plus 5 Seconds of Summer and The 1975, too!"_ **

**_Styles orders a second Irish Coffee and after a few sips, his posture seems to change. He's still not the Harry you remember. But he's holding himself better. His clothes seem less ill-suited to his frame and there's a bit of a spark in his eye._ **

**_We talk a bit more about how his songwriting process has evolved, and who he'd most like to write with in the future -- Paul McCartney or Mick Jagger, obviously, and maybe a bit for just himself. Then about how he's simultaneously more and less nervous about this new album, now that so many of the songs are his._ **

**_"It's hard to expose yourself as a writer and not worry what people will say, but as a band we've never been more honest and it just feels_  right _, like. We always prided ourselves on doing things 'our way' but this is the most... This is the closest we've ever gotten to just being us, completely. So it's exciting, yeah?"_**

**_After downing his second drink, and completely ignoring his toast, Styles has to go. There's a party somewhere uptown where he'll celebrate the twins' first birthday with McGovern and her family and friends. I follow behind as Styles sneaks out of the diner -- ducking his head and darting past a group of young women near the door -- and sticks his arm in the air to hail a cab._ **

**_"This should be a right laugh," he says, folding his lanky frame into the back seat. "The two of us pretending we get along for the kids' sake is actually hilarious. I'm complete rubbish at it, in case you couldn't guess -- it feels like I can't even breathe around her -- and she's got no patience for that. Ironic, really, given the fact that Hellie claimed she was ending things so that we could preserve our friendship for the kids' sake."_ **

**_I'd been so distracted by his sudden candor that I hadn't even realized how much taller Styles had gotten until I watched him climb into that cab. It's a clear reminder that he's all grown up now, and doing things his way, even if he's "rubbish" at some of it. Who knows what that means for McGovern, or his children. There's one thing for certain, though-- if Styles' new music bears any resemblance to the angry, bristling young man I met at that diner, the kids who love One Direction are in for a hell of a shock. Maybe he hasn't shaken that Keith Richards vibe very much at all._ **

 

*

 

"My loves!" he shouted, walking into Hellie's room to see the twins gathered at her bedside.

All three heads snapped around, the twins simultaneously rolling their eyes -- even at thirteen they remained quite good at doing things in unison without prior coordination, which was, frankly, kind of creepy -- while Hellie attempted a grin.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

"I sent my parents out for walk in the park," Hellie explained. "They were making me batty. Everyone else ran down to the cafe. Well, except for these two, who hung back to guard me."

Something was up. He could tell by the emptiness of Hellie's smile. The set of her shoulders. The tone of her voice.

"Guard you?" he asked, one eyebrow raised, before joking, "Is there a murderer on the loose in here? Because if so, I'll need to ensure all my band mates are well clear of the place."

"Seems like no one thinks I can manage on my own," she replied, trying to keep her voice unaffected. He heard right through ha to the wet, heavy waver at the edge-- tears. Hellie was trying not to cry.

"Can't imagine why. You sound proper chuffed right now."

"Shut-up."

"What's wrong, Hell?" he asked, leaning in to brush a kiss across her forehead, then taking her hand and kissing her wrist tattoo.

"Mum's freaking out about going home," Cass offered.

"What?"

"I never said that," Hellie defended.

"You didn't have to," Cass replied. "We can all tell."

"Darling, what's... I..." He couldn't even figure out what to ask.

"I'm fine, love. Don't listen to these two brats." She squeezed his hand, but it did little to reassure him. "It'll be good to be back in my own space. This place is..."

"Stale," he sniffed. "I should think you'd be relieved to get out of here. Besides. I stocked the kitchen with plenty of Monmouth coffee and there's an actual mountain of Laduree macarons waiting for you, too."

"Mmmm, did you get the rose ones?"

"Course, I did. Who do you think I am?" he squeezed her hand in return, trying to see past the smile she'd plastered back on her face to read the quiet anxiety beneath it, to get a sense of how bad things were. "Okay, look, I'm... not going to make you talk to me. But..." he trailed off, thinking of the children.

"Daddy?" Cass asked into the silence.

"Yeah, monkey?"

"What if you told another story? Maybe that would be..."

"A good distraction, yeah?" he perked up at the idea. He didn't want to send the kids away, not when they were so worried about their mum again. But he couldn't have a real conversation with Hellie while they were there, either. "What do you think, Hell? How bout the time you told me you wanted to move to London? I mean, that's how you ended up in the house you're scared to go back to, after all."

Hellie sort-of scowled at him before drifting into a memory. "Was that..."

"Same night I found out you broke up with Beau, yeah."

"Ugh. That was a horrible night."

"I beg to differ," he grinned cheekily. "Promise I'll only tell the funny bits, okay?"

"Funny bits? There were no funny bits."

He gasped in mock-horror. "Are you telling me you've forgotten my  _brilliant_  Rodgers and Hammerstein joke?"

"Oh god," she groaned. "Yes, yes I am."

"Well, now I  _definitely_  have to tell this story."

"Fine," she acquiesced, closing her eyes but keeping her grip tight on his. "Just know that I'll break more of your fingers if you don't keep your promise. None of the embarrassing details."

"Hell, you'd just ended a long-term relationship. None of your behavior was embarrassing."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now shut-up and start talking."

"Honestly, mum, how's he supposed to do that?" Ollie asked, as if on cue.

"Oliver James, I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it," she deadpanned, just as his mum and Robin drifted into the room.

"Your mum's right, you know, there's a law about how we can wipe out our own offspring when they become horrible teenagers," Robin offered.

"Hey Robin, Mum, grab chairs. It's story-time again," he said, accepting a kiss on the cheek from his mother. 

Apparently, they'd have a bit of an audience for this tale. Which was fine. He just needed to start talking before Hellie could remember what she was worried about. He couldn't bear to see her upset just now.

 

*

 

_Hellie was in a right state when he let himself into her place -- good thing she hadn't changed the locks in the last,like, two and a half years -- and she wasn't looking much better now, even after sneaking off to her bedroom to scrape her hair into a ponytail and pull an enormous t-shirt over the sheer tank she was wearing. But hey. At least he couldn't see her nipples, now. That had been... Distracting._

_It wasn't even her clothes -- the layered tops, the ratty leggings -- that made her look a mess. It was the wildness in her eyes, the obviously unwashed state of her hair, the destroyed polish on her toenails. It was a thousand tiny little things that were so un-Hellie. But mostly it was the desperation in the way she carried herself, like all her muscles were fighting to keep her in one piece every second, knotted up and shrinking in on themselves._

_"Christ, you look a mess, Hell," he observed when she finally met him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite him._

_"Thanks," she intoned._

_"I've never seen you like this."_

_"Recently dumped?" Her voice broke over the d-word, and tears started streaming down her cheeks._

_"Oh, fuck."_

_Harry cursed for about a thousand reasons, but mostly because... fuck. If that's what this was about then he was probably the worst person to do this with her. The worst person and the only one who could get in the door, who could get her to say the word out loud. Fuck._

_"Okay," he continued, brain spinning, "Go sit down. I'll be back in a second. With reinforcements. You just... pull yourself together or summat."_

_He returned with two rocks glasses of the first whisky he could find -- Bowmore something -- bottle tucked under his arm for rapid refills._

_"Oh good, you've calmed considerably," he said, trying not to roll his eyes. She was even worse off, now. "Here, drink."_

_"I can't do that, Harry," she wheezed out between hiccoughing sobs. "Not with you."_

_"Ehm, yes, you can," he replied, waving the glass in front of her face. It was already sweaty with condensation, ice rattling with each swoop from side to side. "It's easy, see?" he asked, catching her eye and taking a big sip from his own glass._

_"I know how to fucking drink you moron," she muttered, a tiny bit of her sarcastic composure returning as she gestured to the line of empty wine bottles by the recycling bin. If she'd consumed all of them in the last three days That was...a lot. She'd been drinking a lot. "But I'm not drinking with you."_

_"Why the fuck not, Hellie? I mean Jesus, we know I'm good at it. In fact, it's basically all I'm good at anymore."_

_"That's exactly why, Harry!" she shouted. "I'm not fucking encouraging that shit. You know how much I hate it," Hellie continued, lecturing. Because even in her distraught state, she could lecture him. This was bad._

_Harry planted down on his ass, hard. Hellie reached out for his leg, rested her hand there before dropping her forehead to his shoulder and heaving a sigh._

_"I'm sorry, that's... I shouldn't have said it that way, maybe," she said, pausing to look up at his face again, "But it's true, Harry, I hate the way you drink. It makes me want to punch you in the face every time I see you."_

_"Hellie, I--"_

_"It's out of control. You know it is. It has been for years and you're... you're killing yourself, Harry. You're killing yourself."_

_"Look, let's not talk about this tonight, Hell," he soothed, desperate for a subject change but unwilling to let her see him sweat._

_"Why not, Harry? It's not like I ever see you otherwise."_

_"Because I came here to help you out, not dig into my bad habits. Now please, just... have a fucking drink. I'll put mine down, if that makes you feel any better about this."_

_"You won't drink?"_

_Damn her for asking that with hope in her voice, her eyes. For hitting him in a place that knocked the breath out of him, made him incapable of fighting back. Damn her for still being able to do that._

_"I won't drink, Hell. Not a drop tonight."_

_She stared at him for a moment longer, reading his face, searching for something she seemed to find before taking a swig. Her eyes fell shut as the whiskey burned a path down her throat and into her chest. He envied her the sensation._

_"It's not the only thing you're good at, you know," she said, and though it seemed non-sequitur, he knew exactly what she meant. Felt that like a punch in the diaphragm, too._

_"I know, I'm pretty good at forgetting birthdays, too," he joked. He really, really didn't want to talk about himself tonight. Especially not with Hellie._

_"Harry, don't do this. I'm being serious," she said._

_"Hell, I'm really, really not interested in this psychoanalysis bollocks tonight, okay?" Hellie frowned at him. "Besides, I came here to talk about your problems for a change. Like how you dropped the kids off with your parents three days ago and now you won't answer anyone's calls. Laura rang me going absolutely mental. Your doormen wouldn't even tell her if you were here, and you didn't go to work this morning which is totally unlike you. You never miss work."_

_"I do when my boyfriend, who works three offices down, has just dumped me."_

_"Hell, you can't not go to work."_

_"I beg to differ," she held out her now-empty glass. "More, please." He passed over his still-full drink which she tossed back in two big swigs before waving it in his direction. He took the hint and moved to refill it._

_"Easy with the good whisky, Hell," he smiled gently._

_"It's mine. I'll drink it however I want," she paused for a second, eyes suddenly filling. "Actually, it's his. It's his and I want it gone. Just like him. If, if he's gone, I can't, I--"_

_Okay. No. He had to stop this. Had to derail the insistent tears. In a panic, he stood, hoping he'd think of something._

_"Come're, Hell, I've got an idea," he said, grabbing Hellie's hand and pulling her to her feet._

_In a moment of inspiration he grabbed the bottle of Scotch off the coffee table and headed toward the kitchen. Hellie followed reluctantly._

_"Dump it," he said, holding the bottle out to her._

_"What?" she asked, shocked._

_When he waved it in her face. Hellie grabbed the bottle out of his hand._

_"Dump it," he repeated. "Dump that shite down the drain."_

_"Harry," she intoned, ignoring his suggested and instead, taking a long swig._

_"Do it, Hell, it'll make you feel better, I swear."_

_He was probably full of shit. Because he was pretty sure almost nothing would make her feel better right now. But it seemed worth a shot. Symbolically dumping the last of Beau down the drain._

_"It's like washing that man right out of your hair, only... Dumping that whiskey right down the drain."_

_Hellie snorted so hard she wobbled on her feet. "Did you just make a South Pacific joke?"_

_"I did pay attention when we were dating, Helen," he rolled his eyes. Hellie loved musicals more than their fans thought Louis loved Grease._

_Hellie tilted the bottle, her tentative splash loudly exploding off the bottom of the sink. Delighted, she laughed, then turned the bottle over completely, letting it pour out in a series of satisfying glugs._

_"Fuck, that does feel good. Grab the Balvenie 21, that's his too," she instructed, the last of the Bowmore swirling out the neck of the bottle and into the sink._

_She poured the second bottle of scotch down the drain with a manic glee. Harry couldn't judge her. He distinctly remembered the time he smashed a bottle of her perfume when he'd found it at the bottom of a suitcase a few months after their breakup. Served that bottle right for reminding him of what it had been like to bury his face in her throat and inhale. How once, that had been the only way he ever wanted to breathe anymore. There had been a twisted sort of happiness in destroying something of hers the way she'd destroyed all of him._

_"Anything else of his in here you want to destroy?" he asked, gesturing about the apartment._

_"No. That's the... that's the fucked up thing. The only thing Beau kept in my apartment was good booze. There's not even a fucking toothbrush for nights he stayed. Three fucking years, and he's gone without a trace, like I imagined all of it."_

_"Can't imagine this kind of heart break, Hell."_

_That was when it all fell apart. Hellie's tenuous grip on composure slipped, and then dissolved completely. She went from standing at the sink, staring into the basin as if she couldn't look away -- as if she'd seen something horrible and transfixing there, like a car accident -- to sinking to the floor in a heap of tears. Harry slid down with her, back against the cupboards, shoulder pressed against her side, and waited. Waited for whatever came next. Hellie always got there. Always found the words._

_"It just came out of nowhere," she said in a small, wet voice, biting back a mouthful of tears. "We were having dinner and talking about work and he just told me it was over. Just... just like that. I didn't even know what to say, I just... sat there with my mouth open."_

_"I'm sorry, Hell. That's awful."_

_And it was. He knew that. All too well. He was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the person who'd acquainted him with that particular horror. She was sobbing again._

_"I should have known. I know I should have known, Harry. But I didn't. I loved him so much."_

_"It's hard to know, Hell. When you love someone that way, it's hard to know."_

_"It feels like I'm never going to be okay again."_

_He'd call her a drama queen, only he knew that feeling, too._

_"You will be, Hellie. Promise you will be. You won't just be okay. You'll be amazing. Better. You'll fall in love again someday, and you'll forget what this was even like."_

_Okay, now he knew he was just lying. But it was so hard with her there just looking at him, tears pouring down her face, eyes lost and far away. She was drowning in it. And knowing that... he couldn't just watch. He had to throw her a lifeline. Some hope, at least._

_"You promise?" she asked, voice small._

_"I promise, Hell. I promise."_

_The silence thickened. Hellie's chest shuddered, breath hitching as she struggled to regain control of it. To become calmer, more centered. He reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm, rubbing a thumb in soothing patterns over her cheek. It was hard for him to breathe, now, too. He blinked slowly and when he opened his eyes again, Hellie was swinging toward him and then..._

_And then, there were her lips. On his. Her mouth tasted smoky-sweet, like the single-malt she'd been drinking, and the inside of it was cold from the ice, jarring as she sucked his lower-lip in and flicked her tongue against it. He groaned, whether from distaste or desire, he didn't know. Or maybe he just wasn't willing to decide. But as soon as his brain fully registered what was going on -- Hellie was... Hellie was kissing him -- he pulled back as fast as he could manage._

_He shook his head. In her drunken state, Hellie shouldn't have been able to catch him off-guard. But then. He hadn't been expecting_ that _._

_"Hellie, no," he said softly, catching her lips with his fingers as she dipped back in. "You're drunk."_

_"So?"_

_"So, for once, I'm sober. We can't do this. You can't... this isn't what you want. Not tonight."_

_"Harry," she whimpered, collapsing into his chest. He tightened his arms around her._

_"I know, love."_

_And he did. God, he did. If he thought back hard enough -- and he'd been emphatically not thinking back for three solid, liquor soaked years now -- he could still feel it. The quaking openness, the empty hole that grew inside him. The bizarre combination of shock and inevitability. He'd never seen it coming, even when some part of him knew, had felt the momentum shift long before._

_He'd been so young, then. So different and unawares. So blindly, stupidly gone for her. So in love. He was such a different man, now. But in that feeling, even just the memory of it, he was twenty-one and foolish and gutted open, his spirit pouring out onto the floor at her feet. Lying there beside his lungs, his heart, his whole insides. He'd thought, then, he'd never get the pieces back in the right order. Or worse, that he'd never get them back at all._

_It was probably time, now, to start trying._

_"Come on, Hell, let's get you to bed, yeah?"_

_When she was bundled into bed, he took a moment to gaze at her -- a kind of farewell of it's own -- before turned to leave. He'd kip up in the guest room for the night. In the morning, he'd make sure Hellie was in one piece, and then he'd go. There was too much he... He couldn't stay. He had a lot of shit to go through. His own shit. And Hellie was going to be fine._

_"Don't go," she pleaded, tugging at his fingers._

_"Hell, I..."_

_She opened her eyes then. Turned the full power of them on him. And he was. Fuck, there was no way he was going to leave her looking like that._

_"I won't, darling. I won't."_

_He'd be within arms reach. At least until she fell asleep. That much he could still do for her._

_"Harry?"_

_"Yeah, Hell?"_

_"I think I want to move to London."_

_"What?"_

_"I can't... I can't stay. Can't go back to work with Beau just... right there. And you... you need us, don't you? You need to have the kids around more. You're good-er when we're near."_

_"I think I might be, yeah. But, Hell, you can't... you can't move your whole life for me."_

_"Why not?" she asked, seriously, sleepily. "_ I _think I can..."_

_He was quiet for a moment. Not sure what he wanted more... to have the kids near him, or to keep Hellie safely away. But it was true. Here, near them, he felt like a stronger person. A sober one. A better one._

_"Would it be for you, too?" he asked, needing the answer, afraid to be selfish when he wasn't sure if good-Harry could possibly hold up._

_Hellie never answered. She was already fast asleep._

 

*

 

"I knew your mum thought she was serious when she said it, but I didn't really believe she'd actually come to London until a few weeks later, when she sent me the listing for the house."

"The house?"

"The one you live in now," he said, poking Cass in the side.

"Hey, loser, I did  _not_  just send you a listing for a house!" Hellie teased. It was good to see her really smiling. "I sent you a listing for a flat in the neighborhood."

"Okay, fair, I'm the one who pushed the whole house-buying thing,"he conceded with a gin. "Either way. That's how I knew you were serious: when I got that listing."

"I'd already scheduled a third round interview at AKQA by then," Hellie said, matching his grin. "I needed a change."

"Also, you worked with your ex, which is maybe the most awful thing I can even imagine."

"True," she agreed, turning to the twins. "Don't date people you work with, kids. Trust your mum on this one."

"I hate to interrupt," came a voice from the doorway. He squeezed his eyes closed, recognizing the voice almost immediately. The flirty nurse. He hadn't expected to see her again.

"No worries," Hellie said, still smiling.

After nodding at Hellie, Flirty Nurse caught his eye and gave him a coy grin, biting her lip as she made a beeline for his side. He felt his entire body stiffen as she put one hand on his back and grasped his elbow with the other, leaning in far too close.

"Looks like you're free, Ms. McGovern," she began. The smile immediately melted off Hellie's face. "We'll have to send someone up with a wheelchair, and there's some paperwork for you to sign at the desk on your way out, but I just wanted to be the one to deliver the news. You know, since I spent so much time with Harry and your family while you were in the ICU: you're free to go home."

Around him, the room sprang to life: his mum pulled out her mobile to ring Frank and Mary-Lou, Robin looked after the kids as they bustled about the room gathering their school bags and various other belongings. Even the Flirty Nurse appeared to be moving in his peripheral vision, seeking his attention. He paid her no mind, eyes glued to Hellie, who remained incredibly, forebodingly still, like the eye of a storm. She looked utterly stricken.

"Mum, do you think you could get the kids home?" he asked, eyes still on Hellie. "I'll help Hellie with the paperwork and follow up, but that could take a while and the kids could use some quiet time to get a jump on schoolwork before everyone arrives for dinner tonight."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," his mum pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled softly, sadly, at Hellie before ushering the twins out the door with Robin.

"Harry?" Flirty Nurse asked, refusing to be ignored. He tensed up all over.

"Yes?" he asked coolly.

"Would you mind stepping outside so I can have a word?"

Yes. He would mind. He would mind very much. More than he could even articulate. More than he could understand.

"Go ahead, love," Hellie said softly. "It might be important."

He whipped his head back around to find an impish grin on her face. She knew what this girl was after. And she knew how uncomfortable he was. And yet... Ugh. He'd actually consider killing her for hanging him out to dry like this if she hadn't just almost died, which had been really bad and like... Maybe he just wanted to keep that smile on her face, anyway. Any kind of smile. He wanted her to wear any kind of smile, at any cost to him.

With a warning gaze, he reluctantly turned to trail out of the room after Flirty Nurse, all the while wishing he wasn't about to have to let someone down easily. Wishing he didn't feel so uncomfortable with the idea that Hellie knew exactly what was going on in that moment. Wishing he could push away the nagging sense that this was about much more than just disinterest in one silly girl.

He'd been right, of course. Flirty Nurse wanted to see him again. A lot. She wanted to see a lot of him, a lot more regularly. She was practically undressing him with her eyes when he emerged into the hallway. Because it turned out wearing Hellie's sort-of see-through shirt again had been a far worse idea than he could ever have imagined. He let her down as gently as possible, which, he was pretty sure he deserved some sort of award for, because he'd really just wanted to shudder and run down the hall shouting "Nope! Nope! Nope!" at the top of his voice like his thirteen-year-old son would have done.

Luckily for him, just after he'd stuttered out the most awkward rejection of his entire life, a tiny voice rose from a wheelchair just behind Flirty Nurse. He barely resisted the temptation to cheer.

"Are you Harry Styles?"

"That'd be me," he said, leaning to the side and smiling at the little girl who was blinking up at him with big brown eyes. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Jane. My mummy loves you," she gushed.

Jane couldn't be more than five, but there wasn't a single hair on her head, and he instantly knew what that meant. Felt his stomach sink, then surge with affection. What a timely reminder that he really needed to shake off the cloud of confusion and self-pity he was feeling. His problems, whatever they actually were, paled in comparison to this family's.

"Janie!" the woman beside her exclaimed.

"Let me guess, you're mum," he said, straightening, then holding out his hand with a warm smile. "I'm Harry."

"She knows, she knows!" Jane sing-songed, giggling.

"Thank you, darling, I think you've made that quite clear," the mum said, before turning to him. "I'm Bea."

"It's lovely to meet you both. Janie, can you tell me what you're doing here in this silly old corridor?"

"I'm sick. But I'm so tired of that stinky room I have to be in," she sighed, the sound a strange combination of long-suffering and smiley. "So I asked Mummy to take me for a ride. I like to see how many turns Mummy can make before I forget how to get back."

"That sounds like a pretty good way to pass the time. How many turns have you made today?" he asked, crouching down to rest a knee on the floor and hold a hand out to Jane, which she readily took hold of.

Her skin was impossibly soft, but her fingertips were cold. Absently he began rubbing them between his hands while Jane chattered on, listing the turns they'd taken and the departments they'd cruised through. Occasionally he peeked up at Bea, just to make sure everything was okay. Each time he received grateful, encouraging smiles in return.

"That sounds like quite an adventure. Can I ask you another question, Janie?"

"Duh."

"How old are you?"

"Six. My brother Simon is three."

"He's lucky to have a big sister like you!" He grinned as brightly as he could manage. "One more question! Do you know how to knit?"

"No," she shook her head, eyebrows knit together, a very serious look on her tiny face. 

"I was just thinking that might be a nice way to pass the time here. My daughter Cass is thirteen and she learned to knit when she was just your age. I bet she'd love to come say hi and teach you to knit some day."

"Oh, Harry, you don't have to--" Bea began, but he waved her off.

"It's nothing. Cass is mad about children, she's always begging to babysit for Louis and Niall. I think she'd love it," he said to Bea, before turning to face Janie again. "I could come round to say hi again myself and bring Cass along. Would you like that, Janie?"

"I bet my mummy would."

"Oh, you're a cheeky one, missus," he couldn't help but laugh. "I should probably get going. I have a... a friend here, but if you tell me your last name, I'll be able to find you again no trouble."

"It's Chapman. I'm Jane Chapman."

"Alright then, Janie Chapman. It's been lovely meeting you. I'll see you very soon, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, smiling as he kissed her knuckles gently. "Is that your girlfriend?" she then asked, looking over his shoulder pointedly.

"Janie!" Bea exclaimed.

When he turned around, Hellie was in a wheelchair just behind him, smiling in a soft, fond, distant way. It had been a million years since he'd seen that particular smile. Or maybe he never had before. Hellie's face never failed to surprise him, to find some new shade of emotion to share. For an instant, he found it very hard to breathe.

"She used to be, Janie. She used to be," he replied, an unintended note of elegy coloring his words.

Janie opened her mouth as if to say something more, but Bea rushed to fill the silence

"It was lovely to meet you, Harry. Janie and I better be going," Bea said, saving him from having to explain anything. "Thank you so very much. And," she added, a conspiratory tone to her voice, "Tell Hellie I'm happy to see her up and about."

"Thank you," he replied, scraping together as much voice as he could muster. "I'll see you both very soon, I hope."

"Soon!" Janie said brightly. "Bye bye, Harry!"

For a few long seconds he waved at Janie's retreating form before turning again to face Hellie and striding to her side. She had her hands crossed over top the small bag that sat on her lap and that hazy smile still on her face and seeing her outside that horrible hospital room made him happier than he probably had any right to be.

"Hey, Hell," he said softly, feeling her tuck hair behind his ear as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Sorry 'bout that, didn't know you were ready already."

She took his hand and squeezed, smiling a bit bigger. "Shut up."

"What?"

"Like I'd be mad at you for spending time with a sick child who clearly adores you," she teased. "You're beautiful with children, you know that, right?"

"I mean, I've done moderately okay with ours so far. Cass hasn't begun selling her body on the street yet, at least."

"Oh please," she half-laughed, nudging his thigh with their clasped hands. "They worship you. As much as teenagers possibly can. And they should. You've been the best dad I could ever have wished for them to have."

"If you don't stop it, Helen, I may blush. Or cry."

For a moment they were both silent.

"Do you miss when the kids were tiny?" she asked wistfully.

"Every day," he sighed. "Even on good days when they're fun. Even though now I can curse in front of them sometimes and not be worried that they'll start shouting the naughty words at the top of their voices at the most absolute rubbish time imaginable. Like at a funeral."

"In fairness, love, that incident brought some much needed laughter into the room. I think everyone actually appreciated it."

He couldn't help but grin. "True."

"Do you ever think about having more kids?" Hellie asked innocently.

He froze, heart somewhere south of his left kneecap and continuing its descent. He felt bottomless. And positively desperate for something that he wasn't sure he could put a finger on.

"With you?" he asked, trying to sound light. Jokey. Hoping he succeeded. 

If he didn't, Hellie was too kind to mention it.

"I'm a bit old for that now, love," she sounded sort of fond, but also sort of like... oh, yup, she was rolling her eyes at him. Sometimes he just forgot Hellie was a decade older than him, okay?  "I dunno. With one of your girlfriends? With anyone, really. I just mean abstractly. Do you want more children someday?"

He snorted. As if he'd ever even remotely considered procreating with anyone besides Hellie. As if he'd dated anyone even remotely worthy of that in the last thirteen years. As if... he suppressed a shudder. As if he could stand the thought.

"Haven't really though about it, to be honest, Hell."

"Really? Never? You're still young. And you're a dude, so like... no impediment there, anyway, I guess."

He was feeling squirmy.

"Hellie, darling?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can we please stop talking about this? Like... now?"

She looked at him a little strangely, but acquiesced. "Sure."

"You ready to go home, darling?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. To the car, Jeeves!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Here we are, with the end closing in. Only two chapters left to go.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Every view warms my heart. For serious.
> 
> More to come next week. But for now-- deepest thanks to [A](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships/pseuds/fleetofships), my beta, who has kept me sane. And who never fails to find the prettiest pictures of Harry for me. And don't forget, you can find us both at [twooldforthis](http://twooldfourthis.tumblr.com/).
> 
> xxloose


	11. There to Catch You When You Fall

* * *

 

**_After nearly a week in a London Hospital, Hellie McGovern was spotted returning to her Islington home this evening with ex Harry Styles by her side._ **

**_Though neither McGovern, 44, nor Styles, 34, have spoken publicly about the extent of her injuries, this first sighting confirms that while she's sporting quite a few cuts and scrapes as well as a cast on her right arm, McGovern is at least able to walk on her own.  On the quick trip from the curb into her house, Styles did his best to shield McGovern from the cameras while she covered one side of her face with what appeared to be one of Style's trademark hats, perhaps concealing more extensive injuries._ **

**_Inside, sources say she was greeted by family and friends -- including all of Styles' One Direction band-mates -- for a bit of a welcome home celebration that Styles had catered by McGovern's favorite local Mexican restaurant, Wahaca._ **

**_McGovern, originally from Long Island, New York, purchased the Islington home nearly a decade ago in order to bring their children closer to Styles and she's lived there ever since. It's believed that McGovern's move was instrumental to Styles sobering up and leaving the party scene behind, a move that proved prodigious for both his solo career, and his relationship with the band._ **

**_Meanwhile, as Styles and co toast to McGovern's health, London police continue to look for leads on the driver who sent McGovern's car into a tailspin before feeling the scene._ **

 

*

 

"So are you finally going to tell me what the fuck you're so panicked about?" he asked, leaning against the door frame and watching Hellie flutter about her bedroom looking slightly lost.

"I'm not panicked about anything," she replied. Lied. He watched as she plopped onto her bed gracelessly and almost tipped, catching herself with her good arm and wincing at what he guessed was pain in her ribs.

"Really, Helen? I didn't just catch you Googling whether or not you can have antacids while you're on the painkillers?"

"So? We just had spicy food."

"Hell, you don't get heartburn unless you're about three inches shy of a full-on panic attack."

"Fuck you," she groaned, looking like she wanted nothing more than to flop back on the bed like a petulant child. Appearing to remember her injuries, she refrained.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, darling. You can't put that shite past me. I know you way too well."

"It's horrible. What if I just want to wallow in misery all by myself?"

"'Fraid that's just not going to be possible right now, Hell," he replied, drifting across the room to the drawer where she kept her sleeping clothes and pulling out a top to toss at her. "Here, put this on and climb in. I'll get the last dose of painkillers and a glass of water, okay?"

He padded across the hall to the bathroom she shared with Cass and filled a glass from the tap before shaking two pills from the prescription bottle and, on second thought, popping it in his back pocket. He shouldn't have left it in the bathroom to begin with, not with teenagers in the house. Which was a depressingly real thought of the sort he hadn't had the mental energy for in days. His kids were good. He knew that. He did. But temptation was temptation. And besides, Hellie should have them close by her bed. Just in case.

The house was just a step above silent, muffled good-night noises happening around them. Frank and Mary-Lou had gone up to the guest bedroom only minutes ago and the kids had shuffled off to bed thirty-or-so minutes prior, put out that they had to go to sleep before the party had ended, even though they were  _thirteen now, DAD_. He was unmoved. It was a school night. Besides, he knew no one else would be staying very long either. There were sleeping children who needed beds, and babysitters to relieve, and christ, they were all old and lame now. They were tired, too. Especially after so many long, emotionally charged days in a row.

When he returned to the bedroom he found Hellie sitting on the edge of the bed with her head down, still in her jeans and a bra, sleep-shirt only halfway on. The air in the room felt sad.

"Hell?" he asked, tentatively.

"I can't" she replied, voice choked off, tears welling up against the greenblue of her eyes. "It's-- The sleeve-- I can't..." 

She couldn't form a proper sentence in her current state, but he could easily see what was wrong anyway. The sleeve of the sleep-shirt wasn't quite wide enough to fit over her cast. It'd need to be cut open. Which wasn't a big deal. This one looked like an ancient men's button down, anyway. And it was from Old Navy, which meant it was likely more than a decade old; something she'd had since she lived in New York. It wouldn't be a big loss to open one of the seams to accommodate the cast.

But the shirt had triggered something in Hellie, and frankly, he was grateful.

"Hey, here," he said, putting the glass and tablets down on the bedside cabinet and reaching to ease the shirt off her shoulders. "We just need to open the seam, sweetheart, it's fine. It'll be fine."

He rummaged around in the top drawer of the cabinet until he unearthed a pair of nail scissors and joined Hellie in sitting on the bed as he set about picking stitches open up the inside seam.

"See," he said, "We don't even have to ruin the shirt. We can just open the seam and sew it back together again after you're better."

"Thanks," she sniffed.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on now?" he asked companionably, bumping her shoulder with his.

"It hurts. I just... it hurt to try and get my arm in, with my ribs, and..." she took a deep breath, catching just slightly on tears. "I'm hurt, Harry. And I feel helpless. I hate feeling helpless. And stupid. And I can see how bad my face is all the time in this house, the mirrors are--"

He looked over to see that she'd closed her eyes, a stray tear slipping down her cheek. The temptation to reach out and touch her was nearly overwhelming, but he held back.

"We can take down mirrors, you know," he offered carefully.

"I shouldn't care this much, Harry. It's... some cuts. I'm alive. It's so fucking stupid to even give a shit about a scar. Or twelve scars. Or having a beautiful face. I have my life. My kids-- Fuck, I hate this. I hate feeling like this. Like everything is ruined now, because... But what if I don't look like me? What if I go in to a pitch and all people can see is what happened?"

"Hey, hey," he couldn't resist touching her now, reaching out press his fingertips to the uninjured side of her chin and bring her face around. "Look at me Hell. You are beautiful. A scar in your hairline doesn't change that. Even a big one. And it's okay to care. It's okay to be scared. But can you just-- talk to me when you feel like this, okay?"

Hellie bit her lip and tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her go. Her eyes fluttered down to her lap. "Okay," she whispered.

"Your face doesn't sell your work, Hell. You don't get to be a bloody rainmaker because you're cute. You're the best at what you do. Plus, you've got that ridiculous enthusiasm for digital marketing and your obnoxious American charm on your side, so, you're basically impossible to deny."

Hellie laughed at that. "Nice of you to call it 'charm.'"

"I was sure to get 'obnoxious' in there too." 

He grinned before focusing on the shirt again, picking up a rhythm and powering through up to the elbow while they sat in companionable silence and Hellie attempted to calm down. Just as he was thinking he'd pulled open enough stitches, he felt the bed shift beside him as Hellie reached for the painkillers and water. She offered a small grin as she swallowed them down and he felt a surge of affection. She was fighting this so hard.

"C'mere, give me your arm," he said standing and reaching for the casted arm to slip the shirt on over it.

As he shimmied the shirt upward gently, trying not to jostle her arm or body too much, he forced his eyes to focus on her cast so as to avoid the view of her horribly bruised side. The black-purple-yellow-green blooming across her pale, soft skin was just horrible to see up close. A reminder of all he'd broken. Leaning forward to wrap the shirt around her back, he felt Hellie rest her forehead against his chest. His teeth clenched of their own volition at her touch.

"Here, slip you other arm in," he said, pulling back to help her locate the sleeve and slide in before dropping to his knees and beginning to do up the buttons. "You're going to be okay, Hell. It's going to be different, but different doesn't have to be bad."

When Hellie's gaze locked on his, he wanted to cry. The tears were gone from her eyes, but the sadness -- deep, no, bottomless -- was still there. The fear. He hated seeing her like this. And the words he wanted to say, all eight million of them, felt like they were pressing out all the air in his lungs. In the room.

"And you  _are_  beautiful. Still. No," he shook his head stubbornly, that wasn't the right word. Inhaling unsteadily around what he was trying to say, he leaned in again, taking her chin in his hand. "Always," he whispered, pressing a very, very gentle kiss to the very bottom of her cut, which rested at the sweet-spot just below her jaw. He knew that place well. A cut, a scar, they didn't change that.

When he pulled back, Hellie remained utterly motionless. It had been... not an impulse. It had been more thought out than that. But only just slightly. It was just... he wanted to offer comfort in a way that words just didn't seem to be able to achieve. He  _needed_  to. But now... the way she was looking at him, so locked up inside herself, so still but for the labored movement of her chest, he doubted his choice.

"Harry," she whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek in her palm.

"Hey, come on, Hell, 's bed time," he said, buzzing with discomfort as he rose to his feet, completely unsure of how he'd managed to get the words to release themselves from his mouth.

Hellie let her fingers ghost over his shoulder and down his arm as he stood, tangling her fingers into his and pulling on his hand in an effort to draw his eyes back to hers. For a moment longer, he resisted, focusing on his free hand as he reached beside Hellie to turn down the sheets, nudging at her thigh to get her to stand and stop impeding his progress.

"Harry," she repeated, voice a little firmer, giving his hand another yank.

This time, he met her eyes. Felt like he was falling, like if he didn't press a hand against her shoulder or step back quickly or do  _something_  he was going to tip over into her. Hellie saved him the effort by reaching up to rest the knuckles of her free hand, curled into a fist around her cast, against his chest. For a moment he looked down to the place where her pale skin met the fabric of his dark shirt, before sighing softly and meeting her gaze again.

"Thank you," she said, tilting her head up and pulling on his arm until his lips brushed hers, soft and dry, her mouth there one moment and gone the next. He pulled back slowly, eyes still closed, afraid to look, to see what Hellie was doing, now that she wasn't kissing him.

When he opened his eyes, Hellie was standing before him, eyes still sad, but somehow less so, now.

"Thank you," she repeated, letting him lean forward and press another kiss to her temple as he pulled the sheets back completely so she could shimmy out of her jeans and slide in. He watched in silence, completely unsure of what to do or say next. "Would you stay with me, Harry?" she asked.

"'Course, Hell. Anything you need."

"Just until I fall asleep, okay?"

And so he did. He pulled up a chair and propped his feet on the bed and read to her until she stopped reacting to the silly voices he used for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Hagrid, too. Until she was asleep. And even then, he stayed by her side. Because Hellie might need him again at any moment. And because he didn't have anywhere else he wanted to be.

 

*

 

_Over breakfast, in an attempt to distract them from mounting nerves, Harry read the twins more from_ Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _. Ollie was fidgety as ever, twisting about in his seat as he used his fork to smush bites of pancake into oblivion before scooping the syrupy crumbs into his mouth. But Cass was completely rapt, hanging off his -- okay, JK Rowling's -- every word, barely manging to get the bites of food into her mouth. They'd both need their faces cleaned again before anyone could leave the house. The first day of reception was no time to show up with food on one's face, after all._

_When he'd arrived, Hellie had only just dished out plates of pancakes pre-cut into bite-sized pieces. Relieved to have backup, she'd plopped a kiss on Harry's cheek and scrambled back up stairs to dress for work while he took over. She'd been more frantic than usual, though he supposed that was to be expected, even from someone like Hellie. He figured everything was fine._

_In fact, until they were standing beside Hellie's car, alone for the first time all morning, Harry hadn't even considered the fact that maybe it was Hellie who had needed distracting from nerves all along. With the kids long situated in their new classroom, Hellie seemed frozen. Leaning against the driver's side door of her car, sniffing and toeing at the curb, she was steadfastly avoiding any and all eye-contact, but also refusing to just get on with her day and leave._

_"Hell?" he asked, tentatively._

_"What?" she asked, voice waver-y as she continued to refuse to look up._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"Are you joking me? You're crying."_

_"I am not!" she insisted, finally looking up at him._

_It was true. She wasn't crying. But it was a very near thing._

_"Okay, you're almost crying," he amended._

_"Did you see them holding hands, Harry?"_

_"Course I did, Hell," he replied, smiling fondly at the memory, only minutes old, of his children clutching each other's hands and proceeding to their new classroom, rucksacks nearly too large for their tiny bodies. He and Hellie had watched as their shapes became smaller and smaller down the corridor, before they disappeared behind a doorway. Never once did his brave little soldiers look back. "It was adorable."_

_That was the moment that Hellie lost the battle with her emotions. Tears spilled over the waterline of her eyes, running down her cheeks and even pinching her lips together couldn't stop their quivering entirely._

_"Hell, what is it? Why are you crying?" he asked, angling his body toward her so only his hip rested against the car._

_"I can't believe they're--..." she paused, near choking on a massive, unsteady breath, "Oh god I'm such a cliche, I can't believe they're gone and I'm-- I can't-- This sucks, Harry. When did they get old enough for_ school?! _"_

_"Hell, they were in nursery last year. It's not like this is the first--"_

_"It's not the same, Harry!" she half-wailed, cutting him off._

_He snorted a laugh. It was inappropriate. Rude, probably. But the sound just... happened._

_"Harry!"_

_"I'm sorry, Hell. I just... never see you this way," he said, only barely succeeding to swallow the laughter that kept rising in his voice. "C'mere," he added, pulling her close to swipe under her eyes, her running nose, before pressing a warm kiss to her temple._

_"Did you just wipe snot from my nose?" she asked, looking up at him perplexed._

_"I believe I did, yes," he shrugged._

_"Haz, that's gross."_

_"I have five-year-old twins, Hell. I've seen and done things far more disgusting."_

_Her face screwed up in distaste, "Doesn't mean you should be doing them with me."_

_"Well, I can't do them with Paige, so I've got to get my fix somewhere. You know, now that my kids are so_ old. _"_

_She punched him squarely in the shoulder. "You're disgusting and horrible, Styles."_

_"I'm disgusting? Who's letting snot run down her face in public?"_

_"I'm distraught!"_

_"Hell," he soothed, "they're going to be fine."_

_"What about me?" she sniffed sharply._

_"You will be, too," he replied, but Hellie still looked skeptical. "They're five, Hell, not eighteen. You'll see them every night for dinner, read them stories before they go to sleep. You'll even get to wake them every morning for at least another thirteen years. And I know how much you love doing that."_

_"It's happened so fast, though, Harry. They'll be ten by the time I finish blinking. Then twenty. I'm not ready. I'm not going to_  be _ready."_

_"It's not going to be_ that _fast. And if they're anything like your parents say you were as a teenager, I bet you'll be ready to toss them out of the house in no time," he teased, "Besides..."_

_"How are you not more upset right now, Harry? How?!" she asked, cutting him off._

_"Because you're upset enough for the pair of us, darling,"  he responded, smiling kindly as she scowled at him. "What if I promised to go home and cry myself to sleep tonight? Would that make you feel any better?"_

_"No," she pouted, poking at his cheek. He sighed._

_"Are you seeing Craig tonight?" he asked, hoping Hellie wouldn't be alone._

_"No, he's away on business."_

_"Why don't I come over with a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine and you can force me to watch_ The West Wing _or something equally intellectual and horribly American. I may die of boredom on your couch, but at least you'll get some good wine out of the deal."_

_"Isn't the sight of me crying in public American enough for you? Can't imagine how you're handling all these emotions I'm leaking all over the place, you emotionally constipated sack of--"_

_"Ouch," he replied, clutching his chest as if in pain, but also, laughing. Nothing like teasing Hellie about being an American to get her to snap out of a funk._

_"Ugh, fuck you, I fall for that one every time!" she half-shouted when she finally sorted his intent._

_He chuckled, tossing an arm over her shoulder. "It's true. You're nothing if not predictable."_

_"Piss off, Styles, I'm a spit-fire. Totally impossible to fathom."_

_"Didn't say I could fathom you, Hell," he smiled and leaned over to rest his cheek against the crown of her head._

_"What are we even talking about?" She asked._

_"I've no clue. What time do you have to be at the office, darling?"_

_"Now," she heaved a massive sigh. "I mean, they know it's the twins' first day of Reception, so I might be late. But, yeah."_

_"Why don't we go grab you another cup of coffee before you head in. Maybe swing by Monmouth?" he waggled his eyebrows at her._

_"Got a Xanax you can slip into my cup when I'm not looking?"_

_He frowned at her. That shit was not a part of his life anymore. She knew that._

_"Okay, bad joke."_

_"It's alright love, you're a proper mess right now, I'll let this one slide," he grinned, then kissed her temple once more. "C'mon. Give me a lift, I'll come back for my car later."_

_"Thank you," she whispered, just barely audible._

_"Anytime, Hell. You know that. Anytime."_

 

*

 

**_In entertainment news, Harry Styles' girlfriend, actress Bekki Jones-Taylor, was spotted out on the arm of another man at the Soho House last night. No word on who the fellow was, but they were seen leaving hand in hand, the mystery gentleman pressing a kiss to her temple for the paps._ **

**_Sources close to the young starlet say she's become quite jealous of all the time Styles has been devoting to his children recently. They also confirm that last night's very public outing was specifically intended to get Harry's attention._ **

**_Seems like an awful harsh time to be playing games with the pop-star, who's thirteen-year-old twins Cass and Oliver nearly lost their mother in a car accident 13 days ago. It's also quite out-of-character for the starlet, who's often been compared to the bubbly, kind characters she plays on film. Perhaps Jones-Taylor is a better actress than anyone has given her credit for._ **

 

*

 

"Mate, have you seen this?" asked Zayn, pushing a paper across the table and drawing attention to an unflattering item about Bekki.

He sighed heavily, "No, fuck. This sucks."

"You've got to say something, Haz," Liam put in gently.

"You know I don't comment on my personal life anymore," he replied.

Everybody knew that. Not after that horrible New York Magazine profile where he'd had verbal diarrhea. He never wanted to risk throwing anyone under the bus like that ever again. Not knowing how much he'd hurt Hellie, exposing stories that weren't just his. He shuddered, thinking about the day his children finally found that article. Hearing him tell stories about the tough times was one thing, but that article... It was totally unfiltered.

"It's not just your personal life, mate. This is one of the nice articles-- this girl is getting dragged through the mud all over the place. She doesn't deserve it. All you'd have to say is that you ended it. That's not much," Zayn suggested. Zayn. The really private one. The recluse.

"I suppose..." he relented easily. It wouldn't be so bad to put out a quick statement in Bekki's defense. Alex could draft something.

"Besides, Haz, don't you think it's about time for you to stop pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist? You know, get back out there?" Louis asked.

He jerked his head around, appalled.

"Dating? Are you joking me right now, Lou?"

"Not dating, you knob," Lou said, giving his shoulder a shove.  "I just mean... How many days has it been since the accident now? Twelve? Thirteen? When's the last time you even left Hellie's place, let alone went back to your house?"

"I wager this pub is as close to his place as Haz has gotten since the accident. What d'ya say lads?" Niall teased.

"Fuck, off, Ni," he said, trying to keep a good natured tone to his voice despite his rising blood pressure, heart rate.

"Seriously, though, Harry. You have to great back to your real life sometime. We're nearly done a new album and there's all this studio time booked, just wasting away. Don't get me wrong, we've been happy to wait for you. We know what a nightmare this has been. But Hellie is home, the kids have been back in school almost two weeks," Louis began, tone even but urgent.

"Even Frank and Mary-Lou are looking at flights back to the States," Niall added. The spy. He always knew.

"Everyone is getting back to their life, but you," Louis finished.

"That's not true. You know it's not. Hellie isn't even close to being ready to go back to work, and I can't... I can't just leave her alone there all day."

"No one said anything about leaving her alone all day, Haz, just a few hours here and there so we can hit the studio and finish this record. Maybe a few more meals out of the house with us," said Louis.

"But Hellie--"

"Hellie can't even begin to get back to her life until you do, mate," Niall supplied.

"Woah, wait, did she tell you that? Am I bothering her? Why didn't she tell me?" He asked, questions pouring out in a panicked rush.

"Hellie hasn't said anything, Haz. It's just... an observation. You two have been even more, ehm, codependent than usual since the accident. That's not a criticism," Niall added quickly, "None of us can even imagine what this must be like for you. But it might not be so healthy, like."

"What if you eased back into it?" Louis asked breaking a weighty silence.

"Yeah, like, we've got three hours at Sticky tomorrow after lunch. Why don't we lay down the bridge for 'Told You Now'? Then maybe we can call up to Hellie's with a takeaway and have a few drinks," Zayn suggested.

"Come on, Haz, three hours isn't so bad. It's hardly anything," Liam added.

Fuck. They were all ganging up on him. Before he knew it they'd have his family and maybe even Hellie in on it too.  Hellie would probably even lie for his sake. Say she was ready for shit she wasn't. And Gemma would be... worse, given her current feelings about his relationship with Hellie. The only way to head them off before they made things worse was to give them something. Something like three hours.

"Oh fine," he sighed. "I'll come to the studio tomorrow."

"And?" Louis prompted.

"And I'll stop pretending I don't have to deal with the media. I'll call Alex and have him give a statement about Bekki."

"That's the spirit!" Louis crowed, slapping him on the back and raising a hand to get the waitress' attention before ordering another round. "Now lets have a proper drink before you go back to Hellie's and moon over her for hours on end."

He opened his mouth.

"Don't even try to deny it, Haz, not unless you really want to hear what we have to say about that."

He slammed his mouth shut again and groaned, dropping his head to the table for a moment as Louis jostled him with an elbow to the ribs.

"Watch it, mate, those ribs are still fucked," he mumbled.

"Mhmm, whatever," Louis replied airily, nudging once again as their drinks arrived. 

"Tosser," he said with a sigh before lifting his head to take a big swig of his beer.

There was nothing for it. Not with the lads in caretaker mode like this. He just had to give in. Let them lead him about. He felt sort of like a sixteen year old, again. Younger than everyone, everyone's responsibility to manage. He found it was hard to really mind. Not when he knew they meant well. Not after the weeks he'd just had.

 

*

 

_"Daddy!" Cass and Ollie shouted, barreling through the control room and elbowing each other as they race to meet him._

_With a dopey grin Harry crouched down to catch them in an open embrace. "Oooof," he puffed as they slammed into him full force._

_"What did I say about shouting at Daddy's studio?" Hellie asked, sharing a private smile and a small eye-roll with Harry before the twins craned their heads around in his embrace._

_"Ehm," Cass began, and he could see on her face that she was going to spin the truth. Cass had been flexible and, well, political in her approach to rules and consequences from... birth, basically._

_"Don't even think about lying to your mum, monkey," he warned._

_"That we're not supposed to do it," Ollie finished for Cass, saving them both from further reprimand. Harry gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek._

_"I know you two are excited, but the studio is a place for recording special things and it wouldn't be very nice to ruin people's hard work by being careless. Even if it was just an accident."_

_"Sorry Mommy," Cass toed at the ground._

_"You don't need to apologize to me, Cass, just try to remember next time, okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Would you two like to go see all the instruments?" Harry asked, wanting a moment alone with Hellie._

_"Yeah!" Ollie replied enthusiastically before clapping a hand over his mouth sheepishly. He watched Hellie bite back a smile._

_"I bet Jake here would even let you bang on the drums if you're extra-well-behaved while he shows you about, monster," Harry said, ruffling Ollie's hair as he offered his producer an apologetic smile._

_"Your Da's right, Ol, I bet you'd be really good at the cajon, too," Jake said, smiling and holding a hand out to each of Harry's children. Cass near sprinted to his side. Harry wasn't entirely sure his daughter didn't have a crush on his producer. He also wasn't entirely sure he liked that idea. "It's cued up, Haz," Jake added over his shoulder as he headed toward the door._

_"Thanks, Jake," Harry replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to face Hellie, shoulders shrugged up to his ears._

_"Are you excited for the trip?" she asked._

_Harry was taking the kids with him to Hvar to join his family celebrating Gemma's thirtieth birthday. He was definitely looking forward to plenty of beach time with his kids, uninterrupted by homework or recording sessions. And he knew his Mum and Robin and Gemma were looking forward to the time together just as much, if not perhaps a tiny bit more.  It had been years since they'd had so much time together with the kids._

_But that wasn't why Harry had asked Hellie to meet him at the studio with the kids tonight, instead of at the airport in the morning. And that wasn't what had Harry's heart thumping madly in his chest, either. No. That privilege was reserved for the new track Jake had just cued up for him. The final (title) track for his first-ever solo album. Harry wanted Hellie to hear it first -- it was about her, after all -- and he was legitimately terrified of sharing it with her. Of laying himself bare like that, and asking her to understand. It had been so many years, now, since he'd been close enough to her for this kind of honesty, and so much had changed since then._

_He trusted her again, certainly.  He just... didn't know what it was like with her now, when he was this honest and they were still broken._

_But he needed her to hear this. Amd he had to be honest and up front about what he was doing. Even if he couldn't -- wouldn't -- change it. Because 'Bottom of the Bottle' was the sum total of his last few years. It was the album. But it was her, too. Hers._

_Because sure, it was about the booze. But it was also about what you love being what hurts you the most. About making peace with that. With the way it's always with you, even when you've had to let it go._

_"Course, yeah," he replied, tentatively, before deciding he just needed to tear the plaster off. Get it over with. "But I'm also... Hell, I asked you to call up here because I want you to hear something. I want you to be the first to hear something."_

_"Mmm?" she hummed._

_"It's... It's the final cut of the title track for my record. It's... I just-- I want you to... Listen, I guess."_

_With little ceremony, he pushed the play button Jake had left set for him. A lonely piano rang out in a minor key, setting the stage for the low rumble of his voice, raw, recorded in one take live from the floor as he played. It was the only song on the album he played. The only one he needed to._

_Halfway through the first verse, Hellie knew. He could see the moment it hit her, gaze flicking over to him as she planted back onto the arm of the couch that stood behind her suddenly, barely holding her balance. Tears welled at the edge of her eyes, but nothing fell. Harry wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Wasn't sure if he could keep watching her fight the feeling. But he couldn't let himself look away, either. He owed her that much._

_When the song faded out, silence gripped the room._

_"Hellie, I..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Where to begin._

_There was so much he needed to voice. So much she needed to know. He wanted to assure her he'd never confirm it was her. He wanted her to know that it was okay now. Or at least, more okay than it had been in the last five years. That the very act of recording the song had released something for him. Saved something in him._

_But the words wouldn't come. And seconds later their children were barreling back through the door, shouting over each other in an attempt to be the first voice they heard. And it was over. The moment. The silent conversation. Everything. 'Bottom of the Bottle' was in the world now. And they couldn't go back._

_"It's beautiful, love," Hellie mouthed, resurrecting a term of endearment he hadn't heard her direct his way in years. Absolving him of so many things. Without another word, Hellie reached for Cass and Ollie and began the process of wishing them goodbye._

_Harry watched fondly, shocked at how calm he felt, even without having said everything he'd thought he needed to say. Maybe the explanation had never been necessary at all. Not for her. For them. Because he and Hellie... This was kind of the history of their relationship. Getting in too far too fast, almost immediately reaching the point where going back was impossible. And they always came out alright. Even after the shittiest things in life. They always came out alright._

 

*

 

**_With the raw, emotional honesty that marked Styles' first solo album, platinum-selling Bottom of the Bottle, all eyes will be trained on Styles' lyrics once again when he releases his second album, entitled The Fall, later this month._ **

**_While even a cursory glance at the newsstand will tell you interest in the star's personal life has remained intense over the past four years, Styles himself has maintained a near perfect silence in the press. And though he's put his days of hard partying behind him and salvaged an amicable relationship with ex Helen McGovern -- around whom much of his moody first album is believed to center -- there is no shortage of drama to document. His love life, in particular, has become something of a revolving door for starlets, young and old. With The Fall, fans and celeb-watchers alike are expecting some insight into the 31-year-old's past._ **

 

*

 

"Oi," he barked, catching Cass and Ollie's attention and putting a stop to their sudden, unexplained scuffle, "You two horrible things, cut it out. I think it's well past time for bed."

"Mu-um," Cass sing-songed, giving Ollie a shove before leaning against the fridge and looking to Hellie for a reprieve.

"Harry, love, did you ever think you'd see the day when these two thought  _I_  could be bought with big, sad eyes?" Hellie asked.

"I resent the implication that I'm the parent who can be bought," he replied, eyes smiling even as he tried to sound hurt. "In that way, or any other."

"Don't worry, Dad, you're just as lame as mum," Ollie informed him.

"You know, you lot are barely even teenagers, so I'm not sure your father and I can excuse this kind of impertinence," Hellie said, reaching out to ruffle Ollie's hair.

"Absolutely cannot," he confirmed. "If we weren't already sending you off to bed because it's a school night, we'd definitely be sending you off to bed as punishment for being cheeky buggers."

"Ugh. Teenagers. Just the absolute worst creatures possible," Hellie amended, winking at him and trying not to laugh.

"Go on then, march upstairs," he ordered shooing the kids out of the kitchen.

"Just so you know, Dad, you're not funny," Cass offered over her shoulder.

Hellie burst into laughter.

"Neither are you, mum!" Cass added in a huff.

Hellie only laughed harder. 

He was about to prompt the children to say goodnight to their mother when Ollie turned back, slightly sheepish, and made a beeline for Hellie's side. He didn't miss the way Hellie waited until Ollie was in her arms to smile, hiding her face in his unruly mop of hair, where she pressed a kiss. 

He was so busy watching Ollie and Hellie that he didn't even see Cass until she was fitting herself against his side and squeezing her arms around his middle. One eye still on his ex and their son, he dropped a gentle kiss to the top of Cass' head before closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer that she wouldn't get any taller, that she'd always fit against him like this. With all the height in Hellie's family it seemed unlikely, but still, he hoped. Cass still felt a bit like his baby at this height. He dreaded the day that feeling went away.

"G'night, monster. I love you," Hellie said, releasing Ollie with a slight push in his direction.

"Ugh, Mum," Ollie grumbled quietly. He laughed and pulled his son in for a hug.

"I love you, monkey," Hellie whispered as she pulled Cass close, closing her eyes and taking a few measured breaths before kissing her temple and releasing her. "Sleep tight."

He waited for both kids to be out of earshot before turning to Hellie and saying, "Well, that was a proper family goodnight, wasn't it?"

Hellie smiled fondly at him, but said nothing.

"It's quite warm outside tonight. Fancy a drink in the garden?" he asked.

"Mmm," she hummed, pleased, "Pour me a bourbon? I'm gonna go grab a hoodie from the front hall."

"Get my jumper while you're out there?" he called after her as he pulled two rocks glasses down from the cupboard.

Bundled in their jumpers, Hellie's favorite bourbon in hand, they settled beside each other on the bench near the picnic table. Hellie sat crosslegged, sideways so she faced Harry, while he slumped down, resting his elbows on the table behind him with his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. He heard ice clink in the glass as Hellie took a sip before reaching out to run a cold finger over the portion of his forearm exposed by a rucked up sleeve. When she paused, fingertip resting just beside his Bible tattoo, he didn't have to look to know what Hellie was feeling. Immediately his entire body tensed.

"Harry," she sighed, voice thick, fingers gently tracing over the place where he'd carved an 'H' into his arm with a safety pin. "When did you do this?"

He couldn't even look at her as he answered, "That... that first day. I was... I thought we were going to lose you, Hell. That we were going to lose you and it was my fault and I was losing my mind. I didn't-- I didn't even realize what I was doing, didn't even know I had the pin in my hand until it was too late."

"Harry," she repeated. He squeezed his eyes even tighter against the tears. "Harry, please, look at me, love."

When he felt Hellie's fingers brush across his cheek, his eyes flew open as if of their own accord and he turned to face her, letting his cheek come to rest in her palm. Silence reigned between them, but outside the bubble they'd built, London rolled on. He could barely hear it with her eyes on him like this.

"I never got a tattoo for you," he mused, desperate to break the loaded silence, smiling almost-sadly.

"Doesn't mean you need a scar, love," she teased, a soft grin turning up the corners of her lips just the tiniest bit.

"No, I just mean... s'weird, innit? I have tattoos for the kids."

"Well, we weren't together that long," she shrugged. He raised an eyebrow at her. They'd had fifteen years together, one way or another. Two of them excellent. Ten of them special. "I mean, okay, you definitely have some tattoos you thought about for like... five minutes, tops, but--"

"Hey!" he yelped, sitting up and giving her shoulder a shove, "I think about them a little more than _that_."

"Really, Styles? Does 'Brasil' ring any bells?"

"Shut-up," he laughed.

"I dunno, love. It never felt terribly strange to me. But then, I always give my tattoo ideas years to marinate, and you and I--"

He raised another eyebrow.

"Okay, with the exception of the clover. But I was only nineteen!" she defended.

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but I was nineteen when I got most of these, too."

"That is true," she dropped her head, hair falling forward in a curtain around her as she took hold of the hand he'd rested on her knee. "I just... this isn't about tattoos. I'm worried about you, Harry. You hurt yourself, on purpose, and..."

"It wasn't really on purpose, Hell. I don't know if I can really explain. I was just... I was so gone. The kids weren't there yet and I was alone in the waiting room in a complete haze of panic. I was going bloody mad, terrified that any moment they were going to tell me they'd lost you. That something had happened after surgery, or, or I don't know. And I just... I wasn't ready for that," his voice broke, "I'm not ready for that."

"Well, you didn't lose me," she said, voice insistent and she tugged on his hand meaningfully.

"I know," he choked. "And I can't. I can't lose you yet, so... You can't do that to me again, yeah? Promise me that."

"I'm not going anywhere, love. Promise."

Again there was silence. Hellie kept his hand clasped in hers, rubbing a gentle arc against his skin with her thumb as she bit her lip. He felt a sinking at the base of his stomach, and clenched down on it, fighting to hold eye-contact, fighting to keep his hand where she held it.

"Are you... better, now? Or-- or okay? You don't seem..." Hellie paused, searching for the words she wanted to say as her brow furrowed. Well, as much as it could without pulling at her wounds, without causing her pain.

This was the last thing he wanted to be talking about with her. Especially now, when she was still so... not broken. She wasn't broken. She was just hurt.

"I'm okay, Hell. I'm worried about the kids, a bit. And about you too. But not the same way. It doesn't feel so big, I'm not as afraid as I was then."

"Okay," she whispered.

"I'm going to try and... I think it might be good, now, if I--" he paused to take a deep breath. "The lads have been asking if I might go to the studio with them. Try and finish the album. They think it would be a good idea for me to get back to work a bit. Is that... will that be okay? Will you be okay if I go?"

"Of course it's okay, Harry," Hellie sighed, just the tiniest bit indignant. "You know I would never, ever want to interfere with your career."

"I know," he exhaled, "Even when sometimes I wish you would."

"What does that even mean, Harry?" she asked, voice making her plea sound urgent, pained.

"I don't know, Hell. Nothing probably. Not today," he shook his head. That had been the past talking. The regrets about leaving her with the babies. Hellie didn't press him. "You're not that easily breakable, I know. I just... if you weren't ready to be alone yet, you know I'd stay, yeah?"

"I think I can handle a few hours on my own, love," she tugged on his hand, this time playfully, and offered a teasing smile.

"Okay, yeah. I'll go then."

He grinned, amazingly relieved, as Hellie brushed a kiss across his knuckles before releasing his hand to reach for her drink again. Something shifted into place inside his chest, and his smile came easily again.

"I know you probably told me this, you know, before... but. How close to finished is the album?" Hellie asked, taking a careful sip of bourbon.

He relished the change in subject. This -- work -- was a thing he could talk about. He'd always been able to talk about work. No matter how personal all of it was -- the soul-baring songs, the intricate relationships between himself and his band mates, the constant tug-of-war between career life and real life -- it was all... other. It was business. And he found ways to navigate easily enough most of the time.

It was this. This totally non-business thing here in this garden with Hellie, that had come to mystify him. Why things were the way that they were. How they got on, through all of it. What he'd wanted once, what he wanted now, what he'd want in the future... That was muddled. Maybe even moreso now than ever. He wasn't sure he'd ever sort it. Wasn't sure he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end, it draws ever nearer.
> 
> I'm sorry for the delayed updated, but I kind of needed to check out of life a bit this Monday and just enjoy the holiday. Which I did by lying in bed and reading books ad H/L fics basically all day. And then last night was girls night wherein there was just a lot lot lot of wine and fandom talk (1D, Sherlock, Foo Fighters) with [Miss A](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships/pseuds/fleetofships) and other lovely friends at my place, so I was obviously kind of busy trying to pretend I know how to be a good adult and hostess.
> 
> ANYWAY. Next week it all comes to a close. I feel stupidly lucky to have had you all this long and am simultaneously devastated to come to the end, and crazy excited for you to see how Things to Ruin comes to it's close.
> 
> xxloose


	12. The Pressure of a Gentle, Hopeful Hand

* * *

 

**_Well ladies, looks like our Hazza is a free man again._ **

**_Or is he?_ **

**_Sure, Hazza told_ OK! _that he and Bekki Jones-Taylor called it off a little while back. But that's only half of the story. Because whilst our Haz has been getting over his latest break-up, he's also been spending heaps of time with ex Hellie McGovern-- he's even been staying nights at her house. Could those two be on-again in the wake of their traumatic car accident?_**

 

*

 

He jolted awake with a start, ripped from a dream of falling and tossed into consciousness on Hellie's bed. He'd spent the last week and a half pretending there was nothing strange about what they were doing, about where he was waking up. But that was getting harder and harder to maintain, that blind ignorance, as if there wasn't a universe tied up between them, tied up in these decisions he was making without a single rational thought. 

Since she'd been hurt, Hellie had switched sides of the bed, moving to the one closest to the door, where she would still be facing outward when she rolled onto her (uninjured) side. He'd woken in about a thousand different positions, himself, each one defined less by a side of the bed than by his body's realtionship to Hellie's. Each one of them connected by the fact that he was always connected to her in some way or another.

This morning, Hellie was on her back and his arm was slung across her ribcage, thumb pressed up under her left breast. It took him a few solid minutes of silence, of blinking and breathing and steadying himself, to make him confident that he could pull away slowly and smoothly enough to avoid waking Hellie.

Rolling onto his side and pushing carefully into a sitting position, he gazed down on Hellie's silent form. Sleep eased the ever-present lines of tension in her body, smoothing the tight hunch of clenched shoulders into longer, more gentle slopes; softening the clench of her jaw as it curved into her neck; letting her left wrist fall away freely against the mattress, fingers curled gently toward her palm. He wanted to run the pad of his first finger down the inside of each of hers, flattening their length before tracing letters against her palm. Words he wasn't even sure he knew, so many miles away from being things he was capable of saying.

But that would certainly wake her, which was always a tricky proposition with Hellie. Besides, it would interrupt his staring, and that was something he wasn't ready to give up just yet.

 

*

 

_Now that the sun was falling directly across his face, Harry was seriously beginning to regret the fact that he hadn't pulled the shades on his bedroom windows before he went to sleep. Still, the thought of peeling his eyes open to stumble across the room and remedy the situation was pretty unbearable. He was not ready. In fact, he felt like he might never be ready._

_And then he turned over, flinging an arm out to find a pillow to clutch, only to be met with the warm flannel of... Oh god. Now he was awake. Awake and in Hellie's bed, in Hellie's bedroom, sleeping beside Hellie herself. Because she'd just come home from the hospital, and..._

_"Morning," she mumbled, lips barely moving, eyes still closed._

_"Morning, Hell," he replied before burying his face in the pillow and thinking back to the previous night._

_He'd fallen asleep in an armchair he'd dragged across the room to be nearer to Hellie, and woken to a whisper, to a warm tugging at one of the the ankles he'd propped up on her bed._

_"Harry, love," Hellie had said, smiling gently as his eyes opened and focused on her. "Hi."_

_"Hi," he managed, his whole body a knot from having fallen asleep with his legs propped at an odd angle, his neck bent weirdly._

_"C'mere," she whispered,  giving his ankle another tug and lifting the duvet._

_In his half-asleep state it hadn't even occurred to him to hesitate. He'd simply complied, slipping beneath the covers and wrapping himself around Hellie, pulling her body into the comma-curve of his and resting his nose against the nape of her neck. He'd drifted back to sleep immediately, the shift so fast he was surprised he could even remember moving at all._

_It had been well past midnight then. And with the sun only just risen now, Harry couldn't have slept more than four of five hours. And yet. Now that he was awake, he realized he hadn't slept so well, or felt so rested, in approximately a hundred years._

_At the realization he pressed himself away from the pillow and into a seated position hastily, nearly forgetting to hope he didn't jostle Hellie too much. He suspected she was already sleeping again. In fact, if he knew Hellie at all, he was sure of it. In the fifteen years since they'd met, not once, not ever, had she woken easily, or quietly, without a full hour of snoozing or a third back-up alarm or human intervention. And this morning, after her emotional night, Harry had even less interest in being that human intervention than he ever had before._

_Besides. Just the sight of her here, today -- in this big bed in this big, bright bedroom -- was more of a relief than he was even capable of articulating. He didn't want to have to look away. He didn't want the moment to change._

_In the softness of the early light, Harry could see that the yellow-green across her fractured cheek was beginning to fade, and the scabs from the shallowest grazes had begun to disappear, leaving more and more of her skin unmarked by the accident. But even with lingering cuts, even with the bandaged wound near her hairline, even with the swelling, Hellie looked beautiful to him. Blindingly. Painfully._

_Maybe it was just that she was home. That sunlight suited her better than the cold, flickery fluorescent of her hospital room. That things felt more real now, like she really was out of the woods if they'd let her leave the place where medical professionals monitored her second by second. Like he could count on things being okay someday._

_"Stop staring at me, you creeper," Hellie muttered, eyes still closed._

_"I am doing no such thing," he replied softly, fondly, smiling though he knew she couldn't actually see him._

_"You are so," she insisted. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have children to go wake?"_

_"Nah. Too early. They can sleep another half hour yet."_

_"Then why are you awake?"_

_"Sun was in my eyes."_

_"Fuck, Haz, close the drapes and get back under the covers or get out of my sight."_

_"Doubt you can see me, Hell, you haven't even opened your eyes."_

_"Harry, do I seem like I'm in any state for this kind of conversation?" she asked, eyes still closed._

_"Fair point. You've just spoken more words before coffee than I think you did during the entirety of our relationship."_

_"Again, I ask, do I seem like I'm in any state for this kind of conversation?"_

_When he didn't respond, Hellie cracked a single eye open and leveled it on him._

_"What are you smiling at, you jackass? I will hit you with this cast if you don't either get in or get out," she threatened. Harry was almost certain she was trying to hide a smile. "God, you never used to be this much of a fuck in the morning. STOP STARING AT ME!"_

_When she struck square in the arm with her cast, Harry began to suspect he'd misread her. But when she closed both her eyes and a tear spilled down over her swollen cheek, he realized just how off his judgment had been._

_"Hell, Hellie, what's wrong?" he asked, knowing well enough, now, to keep his hands to himself despite the overwhelming urge to brush her tears away._

_"I feel like a fucking science experiment, Harry. Like I'm under a microscope all the time. Everyone staring, just waiting for the..." she trailed off, then pleaded, "Can you please just leave me alone for a little while?"_

_He'd pushed her way too far. It had just... It'd been so long since he'd seen Hellie so early in the morning. He'd forgotten some of the nuances. How it was more than just waiting for her to talk first. It was letting her guide the tone of the conversation, it was waiting for her eyes to brighten, her smile to emerge on its own. It was soft words and remembering to read silences carefully. It was waiting for her touch._

_"I'm sorry, darling. I'll... I'll go make some coffee and then check in on the kids. Come down whenever you're ready okay?"_

_Hellie didn't answer, and Harry didn't wait very long. He remembered now. He knew better than that._

_In the kitchen twenty minutes later, Hellie came up behind him and rested a cheek against his back, winding her casted arm around to his front._

_"I'm sorry, love," she said softly, just barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to--"_

_"Hey, it's okay," he replied, turning in her embrace and resting his palm against her neck, thumb pushing her chin up to make their eyes meet. "I know better than to be like that in the morning."_

_"I'm forty-four, Harry, I should be able to control my temper."_

_He worked very hard to bite down on the urge to laugh._

_"You're forty-four, Hellie, I think that ship sailed long, long ago. Everyone who loves you knows that."_

_Something in Hellie's face changed at his words -- perhaps a softening in her mouth, a new vista opening in her eyes -- and everything inside Harry lurched. It wasn't... they said things like that all the time. And there was no denying that he loved her. They couldn't possibly be... what they were, whatever they were, if he didn't. But he hadn't seen that look on Hellie's face in a thousand years, and it made him feel as if his insides were fighting their way out. Holding onto an aborted gasp, Harry tried to pull back. He just... needed space. He needed space. But Hellie. Hellie would have none of it. She held him close a few moments longer, breath rising deep against him, before murmuring a quiet "Thank you," and furrowing her brow seriously, as if to communicate something beyond words, before she let him slip away._

_"Coffee?" he asked, rushing across the kitchen._

_"Please," she replied, a note of hesitance in her voice._

_He wanted to see her. To know what she was doing. To read her reaction to his reaction, to his strange behavior. But it was still just... too much, too early, too... too something. And so he willed his body into some semblance of calm and set about making espresso the way Hellie liked it best. That he could handle. Even before 7am. Hellie herself? He wasn't so sure anymore. But coffee, coffee he could do._

 

*

 

Hellie was still asleep when he returned to the bedroom with her latte. She'd turned onto her side, but in sleep she was soft and yielding, looking half her age with her silky, red lashes fanned over the delicate alabaster skin beneath her eyes. It was rare to see Hellie like this, without a trace of makeup visible, not even a lingering smudge of mascara near her eyes. So rare it was still a bit shocking, frankly, even fifteen days on from the accident, from the last time she'd been allowed to have any kind of cosmetic near her face. In this state she reminded him, not of of the woman he'd met long ago, but of the girl before that. The one he'd never met, had always longed to know.

She snuffled cutely, burrowing her nose deeper in the the duvet, and suddenly he itched to press a kiss to her forehead. But Hellie wouldn't thank him for it if she woke that way, so he kept his lips to himself. Focused on the way the steam curled upward from the mug he'd placed on her bedside cabinet, soft gray wisps visible against the backdrop of her deep-sea green walls and mastered the urge to do something foolish.

Hellie wasn't much for being smothered with affection in the mornings, and since her definition of being 'smothered' varied wildly from morning to morning, well, he knew to let her lead. He liked that. Not Hellie's moods, really. Just that... that he knew them, once and again. And something more too. Something in the way they had taught him to care for someone in a completely selfless way.

Because morning had never been a particularly pretty proposition for him either, at least not historically. But Hellie had changed that for him, because loving Hellie had made him want to be different in the morning. Had made him want to be the one person she could bear before coffee.

He'd spent the last thirteen years learning to forget that. But he remembered it all again, now. Had spent the last nine days relearning it. The way she made mornings better, for him, too, even when she was at her worst. There was just something in the way... As long as he could be a buffer between Hellie in the world, morning didn't seem like such a horrible, unmanageable place for him to be. 

Hellie snuffled again, and with a quick glance at his watch, he reached out to sweep his knuckles over her arm once, twice, three times. 

"Hey Hell," he whispered, "S'time to get up, darling."

It took a few more tries, soft words and gentle pressure against her skin, but eventually, Hellie cracked an eye open to look at him. Without a word she closed her eyes again and sighed, but he didn't need any words, he recognized the quality of the sound. She'd get up now. Or soon. She was giving in to morning. It would just take a few moments more. He waited.

"Morning," she rasped, the word barely intelligible as she opened both her eyes.

"Morning," he replied, unable to fight a fond smile. She blinked at him slowly, like a baby deer, until she was ready to say anything more.

"Time is it?" she asked.

"Time to get the kids up for school," he offered, voice pitched low. She crunched her face up adorably. "Swear I'll do it myself. But we promised a hot breakfast this morning, and you're the one with the secret pancake recipe so... Thought you might want a minute to wake before, you know..."  _Facing your children_ , that was the unspoken end to his sentence. He knew she'd need time before she'd be ready for that. All the love in the world couldn't make this easy for Hellie. But coffee. Coffee could help.

"Thanks, love."

"There's coffee, too," he offered, gesturing to the steaming mug. 

When she smiled, he knew he had her. Still, he wasn't quite expecting what came next. He'd watched her blink slowly, was about to rise from his perch at the edge of the bed just to keep from touching her, when he felt her fingers wrap around his wrist.

"Honest question," Hellie croaked, eyes still all squinty and mostly-closed, "How long've you been up?"

"Long enough to make you a latte?" he ask-answered. 

It was only a tiny lie. He was pretty sure he couldn't possibly tell her how long he'd been staring at her before he managed to drag himself out of bed.

"S'not long. How the fuck do you look so good so early in the morning, love?"

He blinked, completely shocked, and recoiled a bit.

"No seriously," she asked, forcing herself up into a sitting position and swinging her legs off the bed. "I feel like I've just dragged myself out of my own grave. You know, just like every morning. And I'm pretty sure I look about that good as well. So how is it that you look like a baby angel Raphael just finished painting? And what is the world like for someone so beautiful?"

"You've known me for fifteen years, Hell. Where is this coming from?" he asked, still sort of stunned. 

This was a lot for Hellie this early. She hadn't even... no. It wasn't just a for morning. It was a lot just in general. Just... a lot.

"Been meaning to ask for fifteen years, love. Just now getting 'round to it. Nearly dying kind of reminds you to just... get on with shit. You know?"

"Hellie!" he yelped in shock. 

He could feel his own eyes widening in horror as she grinned up at him through eyes still puffy and half-closed with sleep, pillow creases deep in her cheek.

"Too soon?" she asked belatedly, not an ounce of remorse in her voice.

"A bit, yeah," he replied.

"I'll keep that in mind. But I'm not making any promises," she smiled at him as she blew gently over the rim of the mug she'd just picked up.

"I know, Hell. You've had an inappropriate sense of humor and shocking inability to censor yourself from the very day I met you." He rolled his eyes as she nudged their shoulders together. "Now c'mon. We're making pancakes for breakfast."

"Give a girl a minute," she replied, shooing him with a dismissive hand. He smiled, but knew better than to argue.

When Hellie finally shuffled into the kitchen her latte was gone and she looked reasonably awake. Still, he decided it was best to work beside her in silence, making another latte and heating a skillet while she whipped up a batter from her family's secret recipe. By the time the kids trudged down in their uniforms, there were piles of pancakes waiting for them and Hellie was in a considerably brighter mood.

At the table, Hellie sipped the remains of her second latte with one knee pulled up to her chest, and over the clatter of utensils they talked about Ollie's maths exam, and Cass' rehearsals for the spring musical. Then Hellie reviewed the weekend calendar -- rehearsals and practices and sleepovers, oh my! -- before Ollie spilled juice everywhere, shattering any semblance of calm that had settled over the morning. Trousers soaked through, he ran back upstairs to change into a fresh pair before he had to leave for school. A few minutes later Cass cleared her plate and followed after Ollie to grab her school things. 

"Don't think I didn't see those earrings you're wearing under all that hair, Cass Cox Styles," Hellie shouted after their daughter as she climbed the stairs back to her bedroom. "They better be gone by the time you leave this house or I'll call the school and report you myself."

"Mum," Cass huffed, continuing to stomp away. Hellie didn't reply.

"You're the worst mum ever," he teased, picking up the mixing bowl that contained the last dregs of pancake batter to move it to the sink.

"I know," she said, grinning something wicked that set her eyes alight. "I don't know how our children will ever survive."

"I don't know how I'll survive!" He quipped, laughing despite the fact that he had no clue what he was even saying.

"What does that even mean?"

"I have no idea!"

"You are such a weirdo, Styles," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him only to pull it back in suddenly when a splotch of batter landed wetly against her cheek. Her eyes widened. "What the fuck?!"

"Just reminding you to play nice, Hell," he answered, lining up the mixing spoon to flick more batter.

"Oh really?" she asked, ton skeptical, but cut with a measure of mischief.

Eyes narrowed, gaze locked on his, Hellie began to saunter toward him. He felt his entire body tighten as she closed the last bit of space between them and reached up to wrap her hand around his on the handle of the spoon.

"I'm always nice, love," she purred, tugging the bowl and spoon from his grasp and setting them down on the counter without breaking their eye contact or separating their bodies.

"Is... Your cheek-- Did I get any on your bandage? I'm sorry, I--" he stuttered into the thick silence.

His hands, suddenly unoccupied, were trembling at his sides as adrenaline coursed through his veins, lit every nerve ending in his body on fire. All he wanted to do was touch her. Something held him back, even as she touched him, reaching her hands out to rest them on her shoulders for support as she rose to her toes.

"I'm not worried about my cheek, Harry," she whispered, each careful word fanned across his open mouth as she spoke, gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips.

"Hellie--" he stopped himself, terrified of everything he thought to say.

For a moment he stared at her lips -- frozen, lost, wanting -- but he couldn't bring himself to move. 

It was Hellie who closed the space between them. Who slid a hand over his neck and up to his cheek, guiding their mouths together. He watched her eyes flutter shut just as he felt her tongue drag across his bottom lip, then exhaled a shuddering breath as his eyes fell closed, too.

When Hellie nipped at his bottom lip he gave in, released every muscle in his body and allowed them to rebuild around her. And then, he took control. 

Where Hellie's kiss had been languid and gentle, his was hungry, pleading. As he fought to bring her closer and closer -- never close enough -- he caught himself whimpering into her mouth, but it wasn't until the small of Hellie's back slammed into the island behind her that he realized they were moving.  Hellie's shocked exhalation filled his mouth and urged him on. With a moan he pressed in closer, bending her backward with the weight of his kiss.

"Mum?" Cass' voice drifted toward them from somewhere distant, barely registering before he heard the kitchen door slam against the wall, "Dad? What the--"

He pulled away first, burying his face in Hellie's neck for a moment before looking up to see her gazing fixedly at the sink, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

"Sorry monkey," he said, gazing apologetically at their daughter as he held Hellie against the counter, his hands on her waist. 

"M-- My-- My earrings are off," Cass stuttered, backing out of the room and thundering down the steps.

He had remained in place, listening as Ollie shouted after Cass, hearing the door fly open, then slam shut behind them again. It was then, suddenly, that something sunk in. That he couldn't bear Hellie's nearness anymore-- all the places where their bodies touched still, the electric crackling in the spaces where they'd barely pulled apart.

"I... Yeah, I've got to--" he didn't finish his thought, nothing coherent capable of pushing it's way through the sudden jumble inside his head.

Without a word, Hellie watched him go.

Twenty minutes later Hellie hovered in her bedroom door uncertainly, observing in silence as he rushed about the room.

"What are you doing, love?" Hellie finally asked, taking a tentative step across the threshold.

"Packing? Kind of?" he replied, experimentally. 

Because it wasn't like he'd actually 'packed' much of anything when he showed up to stay in the first place. Or like he had anything other than an old Dorothy Perkins bag, dug out of the bottom of Hellie's closet, to shove things into. But there had been a pile of his clothing at the foot of Hellie's bed, and it was time to finally go home. Let her do... whatever it was one did in the aftermath of an horrific car accident, when things were almost okay again, and all that was left to move on. 

Get on with her life, he supposed. That was it. He had to let Hellie get on with her life. Sort out his own. Let the kids get back to theirs.

To the life where they didn't suddenly walk in on their single, separated, never-ever married parents to find them kissing. Confused and blind, clinging to each other in a vortex of fear and loneliness, thinking of nothing but their own loss and desperation. A life where things were certain and steady and clear, focused on their needs again. The way things had always been.

"You don't look like you want to go," she said.

"'Course I don't, Hell. You're--" he paused, tearing a hand through his hair. It was getting long again, like it had been when the twins were born. "Not better yet. And I'm worried. But I can't like... This is your house and your life and, I can't just keep treating it like it's my own."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm following you around all day, eating at your table, watching your telly. I'm sleeping in your bed every night, for fuck's sake!"

"So?"

"So? Helen, we've been broken up for a zillion years. You're... you're not incapable of taking care of yourself and I'm smothering you out of... my own sense of panic, or.... I don't know. But I can't... I have to..." He forced himself to slow down. To take a deep breath. "I have to go sometime."

"You're not smothering me. I'd tell you if you were, Harry, you know that," she insisted.

For a few seconds, he just looked at her. She was looking at him like he was crazy. But not in... not in a bad way. Or maybe it was bad, but it wasn't because she was angry at him. It was like... he was driving her crazy. Not because he was an asshole, but because wasn't seeing something obvious. Something she could see as clear as day. She was looking at him like she looked at her girlfriends when they said self-deprecating shit that the whole universe knew wasn't true. 

He felt his shoulders melt, stuffed his trembling hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"What are we doing, Helen?" he asked, an unintended note of defeat in his voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently in return.

"We just kissed."

"...Okay. So? I kissed you the day before that, too."

"You know what I mean, Hell. It wasn't like... like that."

She gazed back at him evenly, silent, waiting. She was going to make him say it.

"That was... Fuck, that was intimate, Hellie. That was real. That was like fifteen years had just suddenly disappeared and we were standing by the bar at Lit again."

For a moment, he couldn't meet her eyes. Couldn't look up from the crumpled pair of jeans still lying on her floor. She'd had a bed just like this one in New York, once. In it he'd made love to her in it more times than he could count, slept peacefully wrapped around her, caught her when she tripped over heaps of trousers he'd left beside it on the floor. Once upon a time, before things had gone wrong.

When he looked up Hellie raised her chin, eyes glinting. Something about her was like a challenge. A dare.

He'd say it was in the moment -- in the defiant line of her jaw, the taunting in her narrowed gaze -- but that wasn't even remotely true. It had been this way from the moment they met. And he loved it. Loved her. Loved. Love.

"So when do you think the two of us are going to stop lying about our feelings, huh?" he asked, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, voice thick.

"Are we really lying?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, "Or just hiding?"

"Semantics, Helen Anne," he replied, lips fighting the quirk of a smile.

It became a stare-off then, eyes locked, breathing constricted, skin on absolute fire. He wanted to touch her. But it had always been about words with Hellie. The ones tattooed on her body, or scrawled above her bed. The ones that came out of his mouth. He couldn't make her understand things -- with his hands, his eyes, his lips -- until he said them. That was just the way of her.

He broke first. He always did.

"You've ruined me for other women, Hellie."

She looked at him, all the teasing gone from her, eyes sober and full. And he couldn't tell, in that moment,what her next breath would bring. 

"I'm sorry, Harry, I--" she began, but he couldn't hear it. Not apologies. Not then.

"I don't mean it that way," he cut her off fiercely. "I mean that you were great. Are great. So great. I don't... I don't want anyone else. I don't even want to. No one is you. And it's... it's taken me a decade to be able to admit that."

Hellie's smile started out small, pulling outward by millimeters for a moment or two before she couldn't harness it anymore. With a laughing exhalation, she let it break over her face like the sun always seemed to burst over the horizon at sunrise-- hidden one minute and dazzling the next.

"What are you smiling at, miss?" he asked, biting into a grin of his own.

"Nothing," she tried to insist, but he wouldn't hear it.

"Hell," he intoned.

"Fine, I just-- I thought you'd never say it."

"You thought what?"

"I thought I'd never get you to admit it again."

"Admit what again, Helen?" he asked, knowing full-well what she meant, but wanting to hear the words himself, too.

"That you love me."

"Is that what you thought all of this was about?" he asked, smile finally breaking through the last of his barriers.

"Shut-up," she said, reaching forward to swat at his arm. 

He grabbed her wrist, hauling her in until their bodies pressed together so he could wrap an arm about her waist.

"You love me," she teased.

"I do, yeah," he replied, voice going all breathy, stomach clenching at the words.

"Good," she replied, still smiling as she brought her lips up until they only just barely grazed against his. "Because this would be really awkward if you didn't," she finished, feeling for all the world as if she were about to lean in for a kiss, but hesitating instead, pulling back to grin sort of dopily and run her fingertips up his cheek, back into his hair.

"What?" he asked.

"I love it when you smile," she said. "You always look so young. Like the boy I met."

Suddenly, he became serious. Felt the smile melt off his face.

"That boy is long gone, Hellie."

"No, Harry, he's not. He's in there." He opened his mouth to reply, but she shook her head, shhh-ed him, caught his lips with the press of her fingers. "I love you, you know. Nineteen-year-old you, and twenty-five-year-old you, and thirty-four-year-old you, too. Maybe him the most."

He felt a tear escape and almost laughed at the ridiculous drama of it. Of one single tear rolling down his cheek. But some things were unstoppable. Like Hellie and him.

"Are we trying this, then?" he asked.

"I think so," she nodded seriously, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to stop another smile. "But we can't tell the kids."

"Mmm," he agreed. "Or the lads."

"It's a secret.  Definitely," she nodded again, then tilted her face up to him.

"Until we know what this is," he whispered, leaning a tiny bit closer, nearly closing the space.

"Yup," she popped the 'p' but kept her eyes closed.

"Okay, I'm gonna kiss you now," he formed his sentence against her mouth-- the words a promise, a sort of kiss on their own.

"Finally."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin.
> 
> Thank you for letting me share this with you, all of you.
> 
> Thank you [Miss A](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships/pseuds/fleetofships), for inspiring me. For egging me on. For talking me through nearly ever word of this. Without you TTR is not a thing. Thank you Cat, for encouraging me, for getting me excited about sharing this, because without my experience of TTR is 1000% less lovely. Thank you Hanna for every instant of enthusiasm and encouragement you shared. (No, I haven't forgotten you want a pony.)
> 
> But mostly, thank you to anyone who took the time. Who gave Harry and Hellie and Cass and Ollie space in your lives. It's the highest compliment I can even think of.
> 
> Things to Ruin is done. But you'll hear more from me. I promise. I may even have a new short story completed already ;)
> 
> No seriously. Thank you again and again. I cannot believe I did this. I cannot believe you were here. You're all gems.
> 
> xxloose.


End file.
